


The Return of Shane, Vol 2: The Void (Re-Edited)

by TheWalkingDeadNegative



Series: The Walking Dead: Negative [2]
Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alexandria Safe-Zone, Alpha Shane, Alternate Universe - The Walking Dead Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, Headcanon, Inspired by The Walking Dead, Love, Minor Andrea/Michonne (Walking Dead), Multi, Other, Past Rick Grimes/Shane Walsh, Shane Lives, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-01 21:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5222321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWalkingDeadNegative/pseuds/TheWalkingDeadNegative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shane barely survived the events of Hershel’s farm before he found himself in the center of another hurricane. Luckily for Shane, he was discovered by two mysterious paramilitary fighters with an arsenal of weaponry and an armored vehicle to hide in. But Shane’s heart is luring him back to the farm. He needs closure before he can finally move on.<br/>#TheVoid is the second part of the #Shane Trilogy. It is highly encouraged that new readers check out the 5-Part story entitled #Shane.</p><p>These events are set between the Season 2 Finale and Season 3 Premier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Timeline Explained

**  
The Walking Dead: Negative, Timeline Explanation:** The purpose of this timeline is to help readers understand where AMC's The Walking Dead and the The Walking Dead: Negative's timeline's intersect. It is designed to guide new readers who may or may not have already read The Return of Shane: Vol 1-3.It is encouraged that everyone read The Return of Shane: Vol especially since new characters were added during that series. Contrary to popular belief, time has not really moved quickly in The Walking Dead, mainly because as of  **Season 6** , Judith still can't walk or talk. At most, only two years has passed since Lori's death.

** 2010 **

\--- Events of The Walking Dead, Season  **1.**

| - Rick's group escapes the CDC.

|- Events of The Walking Dead, Season  **2.**

| - Rick's group meet Hershel and the  **Greene Family.**

|

|

| - Episode -  **Better Angels**  (Shane and Rick face off).

| - Events of  **Return Of Shane Vol**   **1** (Shane survives).

| --- Shane meets  **Phillip** and **Austin Marco.**

| --- Events of  **The Walking Dead** , Season  **2, Finale**  .

| - Events of  **Return Of Shane Vol 2** (Shane returns to the Farm). **< << You are HERE** **.**

|--- Events of  **The Walking Dead** , Season  **3.**

|---  **Lori** gives birth to  **Judith** and dies **.**

|--- Events of  **Return Of Shane Vol**   **3.**

| - Rick's group repel  **The Governor**  from the prison.

 **2011**  

| - Shane's Group meets the  **Rockwell Family**  at K-Mart.

| --- Events of  **The Walking Dead** , Season  **4.**

| - The Prison is overrun, Rick's group divides.

| - Rick's group and Abraham's group make it to  **Terminus**.

** 2012 **

\--- Events of The Walking Dead, Season  **5.**

| - Nancy Rockwell becomes pregnant by Shane. Stu and Jacob are killed.

| - Rick's group meets Aaron.

| - Rick's group arrives at Alexandria.

| - Rick kills Pete and is reunites with Morgan.

|- Austin and Nancy are both killed, Phillip is now the de facto leader.

| - Shane is shot by Saviors.

| - Events of The Walking Dead, Season  **-6** / Events of The Walking Dead, Season  **6**

 


	2. "Alone, Again"

_Return of Shane Vol 2_

Part 1

" ** _You did this to us! This was you, not me!"_**

The words sprang Rick up from his far-from-restful sleep. Luckily, he did not disturb his family, who quietly slept. Carl was snuggled warmly with Lori. Rick could see the foggy cloud escape from the child’s mouth as he exhaled heavily.

Sweat beads collected on Rick’s forehead and slicked down the sides of his face.  _Damn you, Shane_ , he thought mutely. Rick's hands felt warm and sticky, as if Shane's blood still coated his fingertips.

Rick could see Daryl in the corner of his eye keeping watch for the camp. Hershel slept with Maggie and Beth, and Carol slept alone but in rather close proximity to Daryl. The fact that the group was out in the wilderness already kept Rick up, and Shane making impromptu visits in his dreams wasn’t helping the fact.

"You still up, babe?" Lori said groggily.

"Can't really sleep," Rick said.His voice was distant, and his eye contact absent. It had been that way since the farm.

"What are you thinking about?" asked Lori as she freed her arm from under Carl's head. "What's bothering you?"

"Shane." Rick didn't elaborate; he barely wanted to talk to Lori at all, let alone about Shane. He stood and walked away, disconnecting rather abruptly from his wife.

There was a time when Lori used to dream of the day Rick would quarrel with her. Most of the time, he would merely cave to her demands. But since Shane's death, all they did was fight. And Rick's version of fighting didn't involve elevated voices. He beat you down with distance and one-word sentences. He made Lori wonder if he even loved her anymore.And he wondered that himself.

Lori quickly followed behind her husband but made sure not to disturb sleeping Carl. "Rick. _Rick_!" Lori hissed after Rick, who finally stopped the second time she called his name. "We can't keep doing this."

"Doing  _what_?" retorted Rick with hostility.

" _This!_  Walking away, pretending…"

" _Pretending_ what, Lori?"

"Pretending we aren't married and I don't love you. Pretending that I didn't feel gutted when I thought you were dead. Pretending—"

"—Pretending you weren't with him," Rick swiped back. Daryl's ears perked up.Though not one to gossip, arguments between Rick and Lori were the only thing around that was mildly interesting to watch.

Lori absorbed the blow.This was what she wanted.  _Passion_. She wanted passion and fire back in her marriage, and now Rick was going to passionately curse her out. "I know you hate me right now, Rick."

"Hate  _you_?" Rick retorted. "Everything is about  _you_ , isn't it? When isn't it about you, Lori?"

The way he said the word "Lori" was patronizing. He wanted her to know how much she always made everything about her,how she couldn't see beyond her dense bubble of selfishness. Rick, though outwardly hostile, was still crushed.

"Are we going to do this right here and now? Is this where you're going to tell me how awful I was? How I betrayed you?How I shit on everything we built? Spare me your pity party, Rick. Look around us.We have bigger issues to worry about."

She wasn't wrong.As with most things, Lori could see the bigger picture. But Rick was too sensitive, and her betrayal was too much for him to bear. Of all the things that Lori could have done, and of all the people she could have done it with, she had chosen Shane. In Rick’s mind it was borderline incest.

But something was bothering Rick even more than his recent dreams of Shane. Lori's body language when Rick had told her that he’d killed Shane had revealed her true feelings. The way she grieved for Shane concerned Rick. He was already somewhat insecure by nature, but after this deceit, his esteem in Lori was nonexistent.

"Tell me something, and don't lie to me," Rick warned.

"What do you want from me, Rick?" surrendered Lori.

Rick's eyes tightened, along with the roundness of his mouth. "The truth." The scruff on his face, slightly thickened by neglect,was tickling him. Rick rubbed his mouth and slightly leaned in towards his wife. "I want to know, from  _your_  mouth: Did you love him, even for a second?"

"Oh, God, no," Lori said, as if it was a silly notion. "Of course not, Rick. I was alone and horrified, and Shane was all I knew in a world that had fallen apart. I made a mistake in a moment of weakness. I didn't plan for it or wish it; it just happened. So no, Rick. I never loved Shane."

Lori was lying.Though it was true that she had never loved Shane, their relationship hadn’t been a mistake at all. Shane and Lori had had a friendly relationship for many years. Shane’s status as Rick's oldest friend had made him a constant presence at the Grimes' residence.

Lori and Rick hadn’t exactly been social butterflies.They had mostly kept to themselves, especially Lori. And she had found herself in a marriage she only felt mildly satisfied with. After dropping out of college when she’d gotten pregnant with Carl, Lori had believed she’d sacrificed her life to be a mom and wife. With very few friends, Lori had often turned to Shane to confide in.

But now he was dead. And Lori felt no reason to share the whole truth with Rick. That she and Shane had had sex for weeks upon weeks. That she had taken off her ring because Shane had said it was a distraction. She may not have loved Shane, but he had brought her a sense of excitement that Rick never had. He’d been a dynamic and aggressive lover; the things he’doften said to Lori had made her feel so sexy. She had felt youthful again with Shane.

But Rick saw the other side of Shane—that dark void of hate, hidden deep within him. It would seep out at times. Rick could recall a time when Shane had unloaded a barrage of punches on a cuffed assailant. Yeah, there’d been a darkness in him. But Rick also recalled the time his father passed from cancer, and it was Shane who had stayed with him. They cried together while Lori slept in the lobby with Carl.

"Then you can never understand why I can't sleep,” Rick said.“It’s because… _I_ loved Shane, and I hurt. And you can't fix that. It's just another thing  _I_ have to live with."

Rick walked away from Lori again. She began to follow him, but stopped herself. He needed his space, and she needed to be with Carl.

 

Phillip was done with Austin and his piss-poor driving; he was clearly drunk. "Pull over, you're trashed. Let me drive."

"No police, no living pedestrians—how much does it really matter what my blood alcohol level is?" Austin's tone was coarse.Even though he was trying to stop drinking, he didn't like to be chastised.

"Austin, there could be living pedestrians, but not if you mow them down—" Phillip's words were interrupted by the abrupt turn Austin made as he collided with a small group of walkers who had piled into the middle of the road. The thick tires slid on the bones and flesh of the walkers, and Austin attempted to regain control of the PYTHON.

He ultimately did.

"Good job, douche-rocket; I bit my tongue," Phillip complained. "Park it." Phillip’s voice was assertive, and in no way was he asking. "I don't care if there are one hundred rotters outside those doors.You are going to park this piece of shit right now."

Austin complied.He could tell he was about to get yelled at. Luckily for him, he was drunk already, so he would tune out most of it. Austin's drinking had increased in the recent weeks; the closer the two got to Virginia, the more nervous he became.

"Are you trying to kill us?" Phillip's hazel eyes were darkened by the night, but Austin could see the faint glow of his husband's face. They had become accustomed to speaking in the darkness, like most lovers do. Austin and Phillip often conducted their missions in the darkness of night.Shadows were the centerpiece of their relationship.

Austin wanted to ignore the ornery, rhetorical question, but since Phillip wanted to go there… "I'm just following your insane lead. Did we  _not_  agree that we were not going to help people? 'Getting involved would put us at risk.' And what do you do? You go out in the middle of the night, find some friggin' straggler, and next thing we know we got fucking rockets firing at us!"

Phillip didn't waver from Austin's nuclear explosion because he had a rebuttal already prepared. "And do _you_  know how long those people were following us? They could have been on us for days; we weren't exactly looking for them. I guess our _inconspicuous_ vehicle didn't attract any unwanted attention. And you put that on  _me_? You really are drunk if you thought that shit would fly."

And just as Phillip knew where Austin's weak spot hid, Austin knew where to attack Phillip. "While you were picking up mutts off the street, you should have been more concerned about Cameron."

Phillip knew when Austin drank he got petty, so he was prepared for this. But when he sobered up, Phillip would make him pay for that statement. "All I  _do_  is think about Cameron and my mother; that's why we can't do this alone. Wacky shit is going to happen.Did you not notice the apocalypse? There are going to be situations that we won't be able to just sashay out of."

 _Oh shit_. Phillip thought of Shane and how talented he was, and now Shane was even influencing Phillip's lexicon. "We are great as a team; we're  _Ronnie and Clyde,_ for Pete's sake. But this—this isn't like anything we've faced before. It makes the Sierra Leon Mission look like cake, and as much as you think that everything is going to blow over in six months,  _you_ need to open your mind to that not happening. It's been well over six months already since "Patient 0" and they still don't have a vaccine. And I haven't heard dick from the government.Have you?"

"You have hope that Cameron and your mother are both alive; I have faith that our government is working on a cure."

"Fair enough," Phillip said, hostility peppering his words. He turned from Austin and folded his arms.He was so upset that even Austin’s silhouette was pissing him off.

"Are we pouting?" Austin teased. Phillip was so sexy when he pouted.

"I'm done talking to you.Call me when your blood isn't 90 percent vodka. Perhaps you can think straight then," quipped Phillip.

Austin reached into the darkness and found a strand of Phillip's curly, onyx locks. He loved Phillip’s long, thick hair, and he toyed with the satin lock for a second. "Maybe the problem is my blood is all rushing in the wrong direction. I'm making these… impulsive decisions." He highlighted‘pulse’ in impulsive.

Phillip felt the heat build under his skin as Austin's strong hands traveled to his shoulder, massagingit enticingly. Austin and Phillip may have had problems—a slew of them, actually. But the sex was never one of them.

Austin actually enjoyed when Phillip resisted; it was one of his favorite games. "I know you, Phillip. You're always on fire after a mission."

"There was nothing sexy about what we had to do," Phillip said, somewhat melting into Austin’s massage.

" _I'm_ still sexy," Austin said before rising from his seat and catching Phillip's lips with a soft kiss. The kiss was followed by a more assertive one. Phillip was overwhelmed by Austin’s strength and weight as Austin pinned Phillip to his seat, intensifying the kiss.

Phillip broke the kiss—he needed air. "Christ, you weigh a ton." Though Austin's body was comprised primarily of muscle, it was still a large form on Phillip's smaller frame.

"Hey, watch your mouth," Austin said, playfully slapping Phillip’s thigh. "You don't want to be spanked, do you?"

"You do recognize I am not an active participant," Phillip noted. "So you plan to do what?Just take it?"

Austin collided his face into Phillip’s for another forceful kiss before releasing him from the embrace, lightly biting Phillip's plump bottom lip. And in his smoky, Bed-Stuy voice, Austin replied simply, "Yeah, I do."

"Fucking-A," Phillip said, before pulling Austin closer for a kiss.

 

Shane knew he was about a three-hour trek from Hershel's farm, but he knew he needed to take a quick break. He was weak from blood loss,due to his broken stitches, and he knew he needed to take a load off before heading to the farm. Hopefully, he would be able to find a car to hide in for a few hours.

But all Shane could see was darkness and an open road. "Fucking great," he said under his breath.

The night was beautiful; the country wilderness chirped blissfully and the inky sky was adorned with stars. Two years ago, it would have been just another beautiful night in Georgia, but tonight it was a death march.

Shane wasn't sure what he expected to see when he got to Hershel's farm. Best case scenario, everyone survived the attack.  _A dead_ _Rick_ _wouldn't be so bad though_ , he thought. But Shane knew his luck, and it was shitty as of late.

With his luck, Rick would probably be sitting on the porch with his revolver, waiting for him to show his face. Lori was probably pouring him a glass of pink lemonade while Carl slept in Hershel's bed.  _So what are you going to do when you get there?_ Shane wasn't really sure.He had an assault rifle; he could kill Rick—but then he would have to deal with T-Dog, Daryl, and Hershel's family.

But then it hit him.There was no point in going back for Lori. Lori didn't love him. Shane wasn't sure if Lori even loved Rick. The only person Lori truly loved, in Shane's opinion, was Carl. She was unable to see the shitstorm she had caused, and honestly,Shane knew she wouldn't leave Rick for him. So if Lori wanted to be with Rick, so be it. He just wanted to see that she was alive; that would be enough for him.

Andrea, however,  _would_  leave with Shane. Shane knew she was looking for a way out.She was definitely unhinged,but hell, so was he. The plan was as follows: He would spy on the farm and see if it was even still there. He would also see if Lori was alive, after which he would find Andrea and convince her to leave with him, right then and there. Hopefully, she would say yes.

In the slight chance that Lori was dead but Rick was still alive, he would execute Rick. Rick wasn't allowed to live in a world that Lori wasn't in. That was the one rule that Shane would enforce, no matter what. He had no problem with making Carl an orphan, assuming the boy wasn't dead already.

Shane's notoriously horrid luck began to change, and he located a familiar scene. Multiple vehicles piled into both lanes of Interstate Eighty-Five.

"Sophia…" Shane said, breathlessly. He managed to find the blocked road where the group had lost Sophia.This was where things had changed. When Rick had lost Sophia, the dynamics of the group had altered. Shane had gone from group leader, to co-leader, to sidekick and this placewas where it had all begun.

The Sherriff figured he would hole up in a vehicle here for a few moments to check on his wound. He also figured a few winks would do his body good; he had lost a lot of blood, thanks to Rick. And he knew he would need his strength for the next phase.

Through the blackness of the night, Shane could vaguely make out the letters spelling "LIPSEY" on the side panel of a large truck.  _It's like being baptized, man_.A flashback entered Shane's mind, but he quickly banished those warm thoughts. He had found the water truck, again.  _Perfect place to hide,_ he thought. _All I needis about an hour_ , Shane thought, but heended up sleeping for two.

 

Phillip may not have been sure about many things since the world had ended. But he did know one thing was certain: Vodka plus sex equalled lights-out for Austin. Phillip had made sure to give him the "trilogy," as he put it, making sure they fucked three times back-to-back-to-back.

"Way better of a trilogy than  _The Godfather_ ," Phillip had promised.

"Of course it is," Austin had confessed, "The last  _Godfather_  was shit. But that's a win by default."

Phillip leaned over to his sleeping husband to get a closer look. Austin let out a deep, wet snore, his mouth open wide.  _Yup_ , Phillip thought. Not even a stampede of snuffaluffagus could wake up the sleepy Sicilian. Besides, Phillip figured he needed his rest—he was forty-two, after all. Phillip slithered away from the sleeping Austin and crawled to the back of the PYTHON.

Buster's ears perked with interest as he watched one of his masters crawl on the ground. The animal was perplexed, raising his head and letting out a curious groan. Phillip quickly retrieved his utility bag, pre-packed with weapons, ammo, and other supplies. He didn't need much; he would take his two Berettas, two bowie knives, and one advanced M-16.

Phillip was careful not to make too much noise as he quietly put his combat uniform back on. Once he was completely dressed, he wentto the roof exit of the vehicle. He knew the doors were very loud when opening and shutting, andhe didn't want to risk the noise. He carefully opened the roof hatch door, but before exiting he looked at Buster sternly.

"Are you going to snitch me out?" Phillip asked the dog.

The dog let out a small whimper, then shoved his snout deeper into his paws. Phillip couldn't help but smirk. "Good boy!" And he climbed through the door with his bag of gear.

Killing ten walkers was no problem for Phillip. He was already so adequate when it came to hand-to-hand combat with the living, that taking on the dead was almost robbery. Besides, thesewalkers were already occupied, devouring an unlucky individual they had found. Phillip scanned the area and pretty much put the pieces together; the man had been knocked off his small motor bike by the walkers, who in turn tore him apart like monkey bread.A sad day for him, but a good day for Phillip.

Phillip picked up the small, red Kawasaki motor bike and made sure the tank had enough to get him where he needed to go before taking off into the night.

 

Daryl smoked a cigarette as he looked out into the dark, hazy night sky. He had lucked up and found an entire pack of Newports in the breast pocket of a walker. He was really more of a Marlboro man, but he could tolerate these. Rick hovered over Daryl, needing space from Lori.

"Can't sleep?" asked Daryl, his mouth tight around the lit cigarette.

"I could take watch," replied Rick, "You have been out here for hours."

Daryl let out a smoky scoff, "Even if I could sleep, I would still be  _out here_."

"We gotta keep looking; there's a place out here for us. We start going house–to–house.Most of these older-style houses have gates or security. We're bound to find a place." Daryl was isolative by nature, but Rick could sense now that he was more stoic than usual.

Daryl didn't exactly prescribe to Rick's belief in this theory of a fortress in the middle of the woods. Far as he knew, the best place to go was the mountain. Daryl had a hypothesis that walkers were generally repelled by high elevations. But, like most of Daryl's ideas, he kept that to himself.

The ghost of Shane was still lurking over the group, it had only been days since the farm was overrun. And Carol had still been whisperingto Daryl her suspicions about Rick.

Daryl hadn’t really liked Shane, but even through his madness, Daryl had seen his logic. It was logical to head to Fort Benning, it made total since to kill Randall, and storing walkers in a barn was probably not a good idea. If only Daryl could have found Sophia in the forest as a walker, there would have been some sense of closure…closure for Carol, and closure for him.

He didn't understand all the dynamics of the Rick-Shane-Lori love triangle, but he knew enough. He knew Lori and Shane were screwing—the entire group knew, minus the children. Daryl had even caught the two once, fucking near the quarry. Once Rick had returned, things had gotten far more complicated, and Daryl had known things would end poorly.

Daryl wasn't stupid,and he wasn't exactly buying Rick's spin of the events. Rick had made it appear that Shane's death was for the betterment of the group, but Daryl suspected it had more to do with Lori. Daryl didn't see it as a lie, but just a slight blur of the truth. Daryl was indeed distant from Rick, but he was distant from them all.

"Do you think about him?" Rick asked. "Merle, do you think he's still out there?"

Daryl had been so focused on his survival that he’d all but forgotten about his brother. "If anyone could survive, it would be  _that_  fucking asshole."

"Does it ever keep you up at night?"

Daryl shrugged his shoulders, " _One_  of the things."

Rick gripped his revolver and finally planted himself next to Daryl. He looked into the horizon of the night and counted the stars that were slightly obscured by the grey clouds. "I want to hate him… Shane. And a part of me does, for what he made me do. He put us all at risk—he put my family at risk. I want to commit to hating him."

"If you hated him, you'd be sleeping right now," Daryl noted.

"You're probably right," confessed Rick,surprised when he let out a small chuckle at the notion. "He was my oldest friend, and I had to put a knife in his chest. Ever since that night, everything has fallen apart. Not five minutes from the moment I rammed that blade into his chest, the farm was overrun. Was that fate? Or—or, was that God trying to say something?"

"Pretty fucked up God for letting any of this happen." Daryl had never believed in religion, and thought his suspicions confirmed once the dead had  begun to walk.

"Shane was a plague upon another plague. He was leading us down a dark path, a path that would have been drenched in our blood. We lost a lot of people back there, but with Shane in the mix, I know we would have lost even more. So why can't I get any rest?"

"You answered your own question," Daryl relit his cigarette. "What you did is  _supposed_  to haunt you, if you're a good man. I never had friends, best or otherwise, so I'm not exactly an expert."

"I never took you for a philosopher, Daryl," Rick replied.

"Hell, sometimes I surprise myself."

 

 _Screw_ _my wife?! Have my children call you Daddy? Is that what you want?_ Rick's voice hastened Shane to consciousness. Upon opening his eyes, he saw a dark figure beside him, and before he could reach for his gun, the figure spoke.

"Took you long enough. I was afraid I was going to have to put a bullet in your head."

Shane focused his eyes. "How did you find me, Phillip? Better yet,  _why_  did you find me?"

"Because I think dying out in the middle of nowhere for no good reason is aggressively stupid. And if you were dead, I wanted my uniform back."

Shane rubbed the baldness of his head before letting out a small laugh. "Self preservation, is that all you care about?"

"Duh," Phillip's voice was somewhat light-hearted. "If you died out here, it would be a waste. You know that, don't you?"

"Die out here, die anywhere else, you're still dead. What makes you think  _your_  situation is so sweet?" Shane was still suspicious of Phillip and Austin; all they cared about was their own survival, so how would  _he_  factor into their lives?

"Austin and I are great as a team, but I'm starting to get the vibe that two people can't handle  _this_. We've lasted this long, but after tonight I know we can't do it alone."

"And the  _Mrs._?" Shane taunted. "He seems to have his own approach to our current situation."

"He thinks the world is just going to snap back together; I'm more of a realist. So are you coming back, or not?"

"Not until I see the farm," challenged Shane. "If we go there and there's nothing there—then we can go. But before I go anywhere with you or him, I want some answers."

 _Fair enough_. Phillip was prepared for full disclosure. He had no problem talking about ATLAS, but before he let his dark secret out, Phillip had his own questions. "My husband thinks certain data should still remain classified, however I do not. I will tell you everything you need to know about us: where we come from, what we're about—everything. But this confessional doesn't begin and end with me. Let's start with you. Who's Rick?"

Shane cut his eyes at Phillip; he just had to start with the most sour of topics. "Fine.You wanna know, I'll tell you. Pull up your nylons, 'cause we're heading to the farm."


	3. "The Farm"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Lori's relationship continues to implode since the death of Shane. Shane and Phillip however finally reach Hershel's and Shane struggles to put together the pieces.

 

_Return of Shane, Vol. 2_

Part 2

 

#TheVoid

Chapter 2

The Farm

 

"So you mean to tell me that you lied to your best friend's wife about her husband being dead, then you slept with  _said_  wife on multiple occasions, resulting in a pregnancy.  _Then,_  after the friend is reunited with his family, that you attempted to steal from him, you lure him into dark field in an attempt to kill him? Am I following this correctly?" Phillip was astonished by Shane's story.How could someone who had been friends as long as Shane claimed he’d been friends with Rick betray him in such an awful fashion? It made Phillip wonder if saving Shane had been a huge error.

"That's not exactly how it happened," Shane argued, "You're just condensing it to make me look like an asshole."

" _Make_  you look like an asshole?" echoed Phillip. "You're doing a fine job of that for me."

The two men were still sitting in the tight water truck. By then, a few walkers had wandered into the roads. It was only two so far, but Phillip knew their buddies weren't too far behind. The walkers were not only drawn to the living, they were also drawn to each other.

During his confession, Shane never once looked Phillip in the eyes.He was very embarrassed. Even when providing his own spin to the events, he still looked like the villain. The fact that Phillip was able to lance through his wall of bullshit to locate the crux of the situation was much to Shane's dismay.

Shane's smooth-talking and bullying had had no affect on the soldier. Phillip had extensive training in human psychology, and Shane's narcissism didn't go unnoticed.

"It's your turn!" retorted Shane. "I've shared enough for one night; time for you to 'fess up."

"To what?" replied the coy Phillip.

Shane turned to Phillip, his eyes tightened to a scowl. "You promised. This isn't a game. You just twirl around like this isn't life or death… What's your fucking malfunction?"

 _Someone's testy,_ thought Phillip. The young soldier leaned back in his seat comfortably, with a pleased smirk on his face. "You think you're strong because you can turn it off—being human. You think that makes you more capable in dealing with our current apocalypse. Turning yourself into a golem doesn't make you strong, Shane. I smile, I cry, I sneeze. You want to know why?Because I'm alive. You should try adopting that approach, or you could end up like them. Just because the whole world goes crazy doesn't mean you should join in." Phillip nodded in the direction of the walkers dragging their feet as they attempted to locate the men.

Shane scratched the back of his buzzed head before catching the gaze of Phillip. "What makes you think I wasn't always like this? Maybe I was always a bad guy."

"Bullshit," Phillip dismissed. "I thought we were being honest here."

"I've always fucked things up; I'm like a walking curse." Shane was surprised how introspective he was.For some reason sharing what had transpired between Rick, Lori and himself made him feel better. A burden was lifted from his chest. But Shane realized something—he was the only one confessing anything. Anytime it was Phillip's time to share, he would find a clever way to redirect the focus back to Shane. "What are you?"

"I'm a waitress," Phillip replied coyly. Shane's frown, even through the darkness of night, was very obvious. "I take it you weren't a  _True Blood_  fan."

"No more games," demanded Shane.

"Fair enough.My mother happened to be of Irish and Welsh descent, and my father was Creole. But based off your ever-deepening frown, I don't think that's what you wanted to know."

"Not remotely," Shane replied icily.Granted, the racial identification had cleared up a few things.

"I'm ATLAS.Or I work for ATLAS, I should say."

"What the fuck is  _'ATLAS'_? Some kind of military program?"

Phillip struggled to find the most condensed way of describing it. "ATLAS isn't a military program; the military is more of a prerequisite. Before you can be a full-fledged operative, you need to complete basic training with any branch of military from your country of origin. It’s more of a formality.People let veterans buy as much ammo as they want, no questions asked. Gotta love that NRA."

"So, you got  _operatives_  from different countries?" Shane's eyes burned with intrigue.

"Mostly American, but yes, we have lots of UK, Canadian, and Israeli support. We tend to keep ATLAS's work between those nations we have close ties with. Or had. I'm starting to wonder if there are even countries anymore. You can't have a country with no government or citizens."

"What is ATLAS?"

"We killed people, but that should be no surprise. You've been watching me; I'm more than adequate at guerilla warfare. ATLAS hires the best of the best to take out the worst of the worst.Well, that's how it started. 'ATLAS' is actually an abbreviation for the founders of the organization, five very wealthy fuckwads who knew that you didn’t have to wait for wars to happen. If you sent in the right kind of killers, you could trigger whatever conflict you wanted,anywhere in the world."

Shane was lost. "What are you talking about?"

"Say America dislikes some murderous dictator in some armpit in the desert, but say also that America doesn't want to personally get involved.Yet they know that if you killed a few key figures in the opposition, it could cause the locals to rebel. Then,  _BOOM_ , here comes America with the aid programs to lend their support and help oust said murderous dictator."

That sounded like a convenient spin, and even though Walsh bled red,white, and blue, something felt sneaky about the actions of ATLAS, if what Phillip was saying was true. "Horseshit."

"Which part?"

"All of it," concluded Shane. "That's that tinfoil hat, conspiracy-theory bullshit. You mean to tell me that you—what?—fly around the world taking out foreign dictators?"

"Well, over the last ten years, ATLAS has been doing a lot more work with drug cartels domestically. The US government hasn't been very shy since 9/11 in putting their boot to another country's ass, which actually cost us a little revenue. That's why they had us in Miami, killing some fucking drug dealer."

"You were on assignment when all this went down," Shane said, referring to the zombie apocalypse.

"Me and Austin had been staking out Jefe Miguel 'Lo Lupo' Cortez in Miami. Somehow, even though he was suspected of sex-trafficking, and had overt ties to the Mexican Cartel, Lo Lupo was allowed to live poshly in a South Beach neighborhood. He had a beautiful beach home that made my Imperial Beach townhouse look like low-income housing in Newark."

"I ain't never been to none of those places, and I don't really give a shit. So ATLAS paid you a bounty, probably paid for all your fancy toys, and you helped stir the stew of shit that was geopolitics."

 _Bingo,_  thought Phillip. Shane was smarter than Phillip had first assumed. Like many New Yorkers, as soon as Phillip had heard Shane's thick, southern brogue, he’d quickly assumed Shane was ignorant. The irony of the thought wasn't missed by Phillip. And with the small flair of a game show host, Phillip announced, "Show the man what he's won."

 

Lori couldn't sleep after that argument with Rick, but sleep didn't come easy for anyone these days. Both Glenn and T-Dog were both up, as well. Lori needed five minutes away from the camp; she needed to let out her tears, and she didn't want an audience. She requested Glenn watch Carl as Rick was still sitting with Daryl, looking off into the darkness. Glenn, of course, complied.

When Lori was a younger woman, she’d been an impassioned spirit.But after Carl, she’d experienced severe postpartum. Though she’d ultimately gotten through that storm, she’d never shaken that darkness in her mind. Lori's depression had become one of the biggest stressors inher marriage, but she managed it the best she could.

One of her coping skills was just walking alone into the night. It was something about the moonlight that drew Lori, and when it was full she felt she could feel its radiance on her skin. Tonight the moon was waning, but its largeness astonished Lori. Taking care not to travel too far, she made sure her hands were clenched to her small revolver.

Lori believed that life was still meaningful, and that the current status of the world could not be permanent. She had to tell herself this because if she let any other thoughts in, she would find herself where Andrea was. So she prayed, and believed that one day, the government would send in support and her family would be transported to some safety zone.

But what dreaded her more than the dripping faces of the walkers was what would happen after the world went back to normal. Would Rick divorce her? Rick's distance left Lori feeling frostbitten; he had felt closer to her when he’d been "dead". He was only with her now because of the baby, and as such Lori felt more like a liability and less like a wife.

Lori could feel the darkness of the trees surround her.She felt at peace alone. Shane emerged in her mind again; it happened from time to time. As much as Lori did her best to deny her feelings for Shane outwardly, he had left a mark on her soul. Being with Shane had felt good; she had felt alive. Lori began to shake her head, denying her feelings even to herself. Tears streamed down her face as she realized the horror she had caused.

Lori could feel her left arm roughly tugged.She let out a small scream and grabbed her revolver.

"What are you doing out here?!" an enraged Rick drilled. "Why aren't you with Carl?"

"Glenn is watching Carl. I needed some space. I needed to clear my head," explained Lori.

 _There she goes again, with her needs_ , Rick thought spitefully."Carl  _needs_ his mother. Do you think I don't have anything better to do but watch  _you?_ Make sure  _you_ don't end up bit? Can you at least do us all a favor and stay with the camp?"

"God damn you, Richard Isaac Grimes, you will  _not_  talk to me like I'm some child that needs watching. I am your wife. And you  _will_ show me the respect I deserve."

Rick scoffed disrespectfully. "Why don't you show some self-respect?"

Lori had had her fill of Rick, with all his guilting and side-eyes. She slapped him aggressively across the face for his consistent disrespect. His eyes intensified with rage and he approached Lori, closing the small space between them. His stare spewed flames at her, but she did not back down.

"Get back to the camp, Lori," Rick said, his voice gravelly and dark.

"Don't you talk to me like I'm some child. How dare you grab me up like I'm some prisoner? Am I under arrest, Sherriff Grimes? Interrogate me? Don't you ever grab me like that ever again.Do you understand me?" Lori's eyes matched Rick's intensity.

"Oh, you don't have to worry, Lori," Rick promised, his voice still smoky as he backed away, "I won't ever touch _you_  again."

And he never did. From that night until the night of her death, Rick would never come into physical contact with his wife. He would barely look at her or even acknowledge her outside of Carl’s presence. And even in those moments, he would sense the hostility. The next and final time Rick would ever touch Lori would be at the prison.

 

Shane and Phillip started to head west, and the farm was no more than a mile ahead. Shane continued to drill Phillip about ATLAS, but he was asking all the wrong questions. At this rate, Phillip wouldn't have to release anything too classified. Phillip was somewhat surprised that Shane was such of fan of conspiracy theories.

"So you're the people in the black helicopters I was always told about," said Shane.

"I mean, yeah, I guess," Phillip said, somewhat astonished by how unfocused Shane could be. "But I mean, there are a lot of black helicopters out there. At least there used to be."

"What's in Richmond?"

"Family," Phillip stated, vaguely.

"Pfffftt…" scoffed Shane. "What the hell makes you think they're still alive?"

"They sure as hell have a better chance than the people on this farm," countered Phillip.

"How you figure?"

"Well, unlike this obvious graveyard  _you're_  leading me to, the Honeycutt Estates are, most likely, still secured. They’re built like a compound; you can't just get on the property. And it's not exactly in Richmond; it's actually located in Southampton County, seventy or so miles south."

Shane was perplexed; Phillip and Austin were planning on trekking one thousand miles to someone's house and expected it to still be there? What made this house better than everyone else's houses that got overrun? "What makes this place so special? The farm was isolated; that's what kept it safe."

"So are the Estates, and there is a fifteen-foot-high wall, made of brick, that encompasses the ten-acre property. The land was bought by my very wealthy, very racist, British descendants back in 1793. They decided to throw a giant wall up in the fall of 1831; apparently there was a slave insurrection that really scared the locals.

"Even after the War of  ** _Southern_** Aggression, they decided to keep the wall up. I used to spend Christmas there.Between the fact that the place was one of the biggest plantations in Southern Virginia in the 19th century, and its prison-like walls, it always felt like a unique kind of hell. After my mom, I'm next in line to get that place. I used to have dreams about burning it to the ground, but now I'm praying to Christ it's still there."

It all made total sense; a property like that would be perfect. It was large, the walls were way too high for the walkers to climb, and they wouldn't bend no matter how many of them piled around the perimeter. Shane was somewhat digging this plan. "So we get to Virginia, and you expect your people to be there, alive and kicking?"

"Well, my mother is supposed to be there with my son. The house did have staff. I imagine they would still be there, assuming they didn't flee to be with their families after the outbreak."

" _You_  got a kid?" Shane said, surprised.He had not been exposed personally to many LGBT people, let alone LGBT couples with children. "What, you adopted or something?"

Shane was starting to get a little too personal, so Phillip decided to turn the tables. "We got a surrogate. I'm the biological father. How many kids do you have?"

"None yet," Shane said, as the two men carefully traveled through the bush. "Had a 'close one' when I was in college… I persuaded her to get an abortion."

"How the hell did you manage that?"

"Trust me, it was for the best—for the both of us."

"Well no doubt, you're kind of a sleaze bag," Phillip said.

"The fuck you say to me," Shane said, turning and posturing against Phillip. "You don't know me too well to be throwing insults around."

"Count up the points: You slept with your best friend's wife, possibly impregnated her, and then tried to murder said friend in cold blood. Yeah, I would say 'sleaze bag' is a light title."

"So all that stuff I told you, you just gonna throw it up in my face." Shane’s right hand gripped his hip and his eyes tightened. And with a classic Shane-scoff… "Just like a broad."

"Hey, I killed people for a living," Phillip confessed. "No one is perfect, certainly not if they survived this shit. There are no innocents left. You got to get grit on you to survive. My point is that you don't even realize how you got to this point. Do you even know why you wanted to kill Rick? Why a man who was a known womanizer would do anything to sustain a one-sided relationship with a married woman?

"You just gave in to the situation impulsively; that's very dangerous. It's probably why you got that knife in your chest that night."

"And you just know  _everything_?" Shane's sarcasm was bluntly obvious. Phillip's pompous attitude was really beginning to chap Shane's ass. As far as Shane could see, Phillip and Austin were just lucky. "What do you know about that night? Were you there; did you know Rick? Were you at his wedding? When his boy was born he called  _me_!"

"Didn't stop you from fucking his wife, did it?" Phillip said with a dark grin etched across his handsome face.

Shane was fed up with Phillip’s snide, disrespectful remarks. He quickly dropped his AK-47 and fired a thunderous right punch.

Phillip figured that at some point Shane would swing; he’d been purposely pushing his buttons. He wanted to see how far Shane's rage would go. Shane passed the test.Had he simply attempted to fire the automatic weapon, it would have proved Shane was just a murderer. And even if Shane had elected to go that route, Phillip would have fired a bullet into his kidney with his Beretta.

But Shane elected the nonlethal approach, which meant he had some level of morality. Phillip was relieved.  _He may just make the cut_ , Phillip thought. The Airman wasn't at all surprised that Shane would swing from the right; Phillip simply sidestepped the blow.

Shane was frustrated, but he was not going to give up his mission to knock Phillip's block off.He fired a two-punch combination, but Phillip quickly negated it, dodging the attack with ease.

"Come on now, if you keep swinging like that you're gonna have to throw in the towel,  _Rocky_ ," mocked Phillip.

"Are you gonna keep running your mouth like some Yankee twat?" Shane spat back. "So why don't you shut your mouth and put up your fist, Little Richard."

Shane swung a three-punch combination, finishing with a right hook that grazed Phillip's chin. "Hey!" Phillip angrily chastised. "You hit me in the  _face!_ "

"Oh shut up, I barely tapped you," Shane countered; he would have preferred to deliver a much more assertive punch. His middle knuckle had barely nicked Phillip's chin.

Phillip was infuriated.His silence was the first clue. Shane started to wonder if Phillip had a glass chin; it would explain all his mouth. He started to feel bad about his action. "Look, I'm grateful for what you done for me, honestly. But you have a way with wor—"

Before Shane could finish his statement, Phillip delivered a spinning, roundhouse kick to Shane's face. Shane quickly fell to the ground. Phillip was extremely satisfied—no one was allowed to touch his face. But then it dawned on him that now he’d have to watch Shane until he came to.  _"_ Well, it was still worth it," Phillip said aloud.

He was only out for a minute and a half. "Jesus fucking Christ," Shane said as he tried to push himself off the ground.

"My mom used to say that so much, I used to think "Fucking" was Jesus' middle name," Phillip confessed as he looked at the moon. "Got some bad news."

"What, you don't know how to throw punches so you're kicking like Chun Li?" Shane's head was still ringing from the blow.

Phillip was impressed. "I didn't know you knew pop culture and could engage in humor. But I am sure you won't find this funny. Look." Phillip pointed out into the darkness, and there Shane saw it. Shane could see the farm was still littered with multiple walkers. Shane's body immediately balked at the sight of the dead.

"It's about thirty, give or take ten," suspected Phillip. "Well, we're here."

"It's gone; it's all gone," Shane's voice was defeated. Lori, Carl, his baby, all devoured by the dead.

"You don't know that," Phillip snapped. Phillip refused to let Shane just give up just because things looked grim. Because faith was all Phillip had left to push him to Richmond, he wouldn't let Shane give up just yet. "We have to investigate.If everyone is dead, we'll know."

"I know," Shane shot back with pain in his voice. His heart ached; no matter what Lori and Carl had done to him, Shane loved them. "Look at them, they're everywhere!"

"Yo! Lower your voice," Phillip hissed. "They could be barricaded in the house, for all we know. They are slow, so we can run around them with ease. We'll do laps around the house while taking out the stragglers. We have enough bullets.Run and fire, that's the plan."

"They're all dead," Shane said solemnly. "Let's just go."

"We're about to, but we have to do this first. This is what we do: clean things up when other people don't have the nerve. So Shane, let's clean this place up."

 

 

 

 


	4. "Don't Die"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lori and Rick couldn't be on worst terms, Hershel is the only person left for Lori to vent to.While Rick tries his best to keep the camp together an herd of Walkers descend upon them. We also learn a secret about Daryl that he has tried to hide his entire life. Meanwhile at the farm, Shane and Phillip do there best to get rid of the remaining herd of walkers. Shane must find out what happen to Lori and Carl before he kind finally close the chapter of his life.

 

_The Return of Shane, Vol. 2_

Part 3

#TheVoid

 

 

He had always been the "clean up man," or at least that's how Shane looked at it. Ever since both of them became deputies, Rick had alwaysbeen one step ahead of Shane. And like a rabbit, Rick always left little shit pebbles everywhere he went. But Shane was there to clean them up, and tonight would be no exception. Shane put two and two together; he figured out exactly what had lured the herd to the farm.

"Carl…" Shane said aloud as he peered aggressively at the large number of walkers still loitering on the farm.

"That's the boy, right?" Phillip asked as he made sure his clips were full of ammo. "What about him?"

"He shot that gun.That had to be what brought them in this direction," deduced Shane. "Why the fuck couldn't that squirmy little shit just stay with his mom, for once? I know for a fact Lori didn't tell him to follow me and Rick into the forest." Shane was more frustrated that Carl was still being so reckless and dangerous. Carl saw what had happened to Sofia, yet he’d still followed Shane and Rick into the dark forest.

"The how doesn't matter at this point." Phillip wanted to bring Shane’s focus to the task at hand. "Can you run now?"

"More or  _less_."

"Good, then run and shoot. We’re going to lure them away from the house, but we are going to use suppressors. No point in bringing any more of these motherless sons of bitches out of the forest with noise. Once they are sufficiently away from the property, we dart for the door. Remember, run and shoot.By no means do I plan to kill them all with this method,but it will give us a clear shot into the house. The fact that the doors are closed and the windows aren't broken yet is promising."

"Say it's not barricaded and we get in, that doesn't solve our bigger problem. What do we do with all those walkers?"

"Simple.We take to the roof. Where does that door lead?" Phillip pointed to the large door surrounded by thin, white columns. It brought a Victorian flair to the farm home.

"It's it in the hall, near the Old Man's room. Let me guess, we use it to hit the roof and light up the walkers beneath us?" Shane couldn't help but give his classic, dark grin as the gears clicked in his mind.

"Bingo."

"Just one problem," interjected Shane.He wasready to take a crap right on the cloud that Phillip was on.

"I don't have a suppressor, let alone one for an assault rifle. Do you?"

Phillip gestured to the dark duffel bag in his shoulders. "I never leave home without one."

Shane sucked his teeth. "Fucking show off."

"You have no idea," promised Phillip.

 

**_15 Days since "Patient 0"_ **

**_Miami, FL_ **

Phillip and Austin had been sitting silently for the past six hours in their hotel room. Using a silent drone, they surveyed Lo Lupo's property in the ritzy South Beach, Miami neighborhood. Usually the mood was merry when the couple worked together. But ever since Phillip had withdrawn one tenth of the couple’s savings to sponsor some musical venture, they had been at odds.

The tension was so thick, a katana couldn't penetrate it, but neither man said anything to the other. They both just watched the monitor as the drone scanned the area.

"There," Phillip finally said. "Lo Lupo, I see him by the pool.And he's got company."

"I see them," Austin croaked. "Let's move out." Austin really didn't want to talk to Phillip if he didn't have to.

"Whoa, the hell you mean, ' _move out_ '? We know the place has cameras all over it, and we clearly see at least five gunmen surrounding him. I'm not just going to run in there with a 'so-so' plan and no exit strategy. What is this, a suicide mission? Cause I didn't see a  _murder-suicidepact_  in our pre-nuptial agreement."

A grim frown sunk into Austin's face.His box-like jaw tightened, as did his chestnut eyes. Time had been friendly to the forty year old Sicilian; he still maintained his Richard Creena good looks. But the stress of the failing marriage, the birth of Cameron, and Phillip’s  _numerous_ extracurricular activities were taking their toll on Austin's face.

"Why don’t I listen to another one of your ideas? Go head, wise guy. Tell me some more shit I don't know. You're just a waterfall of great ideas, aren't you?"

Phillip wasn't going there with him; not right now. This was exactly why they were divorcing; Austin was smothering him and had been for years. "Look, you're hot blooded, I get that—I am too. But this was supposed to be a vacation.You know the only way I can tolerate you is if I’m getting paid to get to kill something. But when I signed up for this assignment, I just assumed we would have a more thought-out plan."

Austin let out a deep sigh before starting to reload his hand gun. "What do you suggest, Phillip?"

"There's about forty-five more minutes of daylight, and I'm thinking a night siege would probably be a lot more inconspicuous than just charging in there. We sneak in through the pool house.According to the layout, it connects to the garage, which will get us in the main house.

"Only six men were spotted, so I am not expecting that much opposition. We park the PYTHON up the street, because when we clear the house we are  _the hell_  out of here. We drive straight to Palm Coast, drop off the wagon and fly back to Boston."

Boston.

The word felt like an arrow through Austin's chest. Phillip was serious about wrapping up this divorce.Austin often postured and threatened to end the marriage, but Phillip would deliver the final blow. "You really want to go through with this?"

"No point in stalling. See you in forty-five minutes. I need some air."

 

**_85 Days since "Patient 0"_ **

**_Senoia, GA_ **

Hershel brought Lori a small jar of soup that Maggie had made over an open fire. The soup consisted of chicken bouillon cubes, canned string beans, and tuna fish. It was awful, but Lori needed to keep up her strength. And strength, just like love, was in low stock in Lori's life.

"Oh, thank you, Hershel.You know you don't have to take care of me," Lori said.

"I remember when my first wife, Josephine, was pregnant with Maggie," began Hershel. "One thing she hated was how the pregnancy slowed her down. And more importantly, she had no tolerance for people treating her like a child. But I can't help it, babies just excite me. The prospect of a new life, a chance for the future."

"I want to feel good about this pregnancy, Hershel, God knows I do. But the circumstances around itare less than ideal." Lori began to shovel spoonfuls of the brothy soup down.

"The dead, I know." Hershel released Lori from his fatherly gaze and looked out into the horizon. "I imagine that whatever is happening can't last forever. Women gave birth during The Plague, countless famines, and even the Holocaust."

Lori could feel a kick in her stomach. It wasn't the baby, and it wasn't the soup—it was the imagery that popped into her head. "Most of those children didn't make it, Hershel," Lori reminded him.

"And many of them did.And they helped tell the story of their survival.  _Your_  baby will tell the story of our survival. The world has seen tragedies before, Lori. And most of those lasted far longer than this predicament we are in. So we can't give up.You haven't even got through your first trimester yet."

Lori couldn't help but laugh with Hershel. It was a much needed laugh. "I remember what it was like when I had Carl; it was awful, with the ever-growing stomach and the constant fear that I wouldn't lose the weight. Now, I have to worry if my child will be malnourished."

"Rick is quite the provider; he and the others will find food."

"You're right, Hershel. Rick, Daryl, Glenn, T-Dog, and even Maggie always go out there and risk their lives for us. I can't stand the thought of Carl being out of my sight, let alone imagine him out there hunting for food. As a parent, it must terrify you."

"Maggie has always been an intrepid spirit, even as a child. I would be lying if I said I wasn't worried every time she went out there. But she goes out there with Glenn and Rick and Daryl. We take care of each other, Lori. So my little girl, just like your baby, is in good hands."

"You've probably noticed the energy between me and Rick," Lori said.She knew between all the yelling and Rick's distance, the group was hip to their marital strife.

"These things happen," Hershel said, placing a caring hand on Lori’s shoulder. "Strong marriages like yours aren't immune to this."

"You don't get it, Hershel." Lori shook her head.This marriage could not be saved. "The baby isn't Rick's… At least," Lori paused for a moment, "I don't  _know_  that it is."

Hershel was somewhat confused, but he didn't want to change his paternal tone into a judgmental one. "Who else's could it be?"

"Shane’s."

Hershel's silence was thick, and Lori took the initiative to explain herself. "When everything started, Rick was in the hospital. He’d gone into a coma after being shot on the job two months earlier. After the infection, everything fell apart—the government, the police, the hospitals. Doctors began to abandon their patients, and some were even killing them in their beds. Shane  _said_  he tried to save him, but that Rick had died at the hospital. Come to find out, that was bullshit. Then me and Shane…" Lori took another pause before letting out a sigh "It just happened."

"Those two had a special friendship, correct? Almost like brothers?"

"Shane was over at my house every Friday night.He would eat dinner with us and then watch basketball with Rick. On Sundays—well, on _special_  Sundays—we would even see Shane in church. Shane was a part of our life for so long. So when it all fell apart, I guess I just felt close to him already. It was stupid and selfish."

"It was also human," said Hershel. "You can't beat yourself up over it anymore. Maybe Rick will forgive you, maybe one day he won't. But that won’t change anything. You are still his wife and under all that hurt, I know he loves you."

"Do you think so?" Lori said, as a lone tear slid down her right cheek.

"I'm confident," Hershel promised.

Under the hurt, Rick did love Lori, but that love was covered with Shane's blood. Shane's thick, sticky blood was all over Lori, and possibly even inside of her,growing and festering—this infuriated Rick. Rick felt like the best way to avoid the ghost of Shane was to avoid Lori.

 

Shane tightened his suppresser around the tip of his firearm. He watched as Phillip surveyed the area. Phillip was unfamiliar with the layout of the farm, so he wanted to be aware of any potential exits. "We  _really_ goin' through with this, man?" asked Shane.

"Didn't you want to see how things ended here? Wasn't your dramatic exit all about this farm? Well, we're here."

"It's clearly overrun.Whoever was here is either dead or gone. I just don't see much of a point."

"Closure, my friend," Phillip said. "Closure… No more stalling, my nylons are up.How about yours?"

Shane shook his head with dismay before aiming his weapon towards the farm. "Fuck it, man, let's do it."

"Now we're talkin', Yosemite Sam," Phillip said. He quickly retrieved his guns and ran towards the farm house.

Shane was taken aback by how impulsive Phillip was; it reminded him of himself. And now that he the chance to look from the outside-in,he realized how insane it all looked. He reluctantly followed Phillip into the farm's fields. Phillip fired bullets into the brains of two walkers, and the popping of the gun attracted the attention of the others.

Shane followed up with a string of bullets, killing four other walkers. The two men then darted to the left, luring the dead further away from the house. As Shane ran past a walker, he smashed the butt of the AK against its cranium. The sheer force of the blow killed the creature. Shane and Phillip both met at a common point,with the dead, about twenty in number, all headed towards them. Luckily, the men had many yards before the dead could reach them.

"We have a clear shot," Phillip announced, pointing his right Beretta at the door, right beyond the wall of the dead.

"How do we get past them without them biting our faces off?"

"Ever play football?" Phillip said,reholstering his weapons. Phillip dug into his duffel bag that was strapped to his back and retrieved his helmet.

"Yeah, I was a legendary running back.What the fuck does that have to do with any of this?"

"Still remember how to  _'hit'_?" asked Phillip, sliding on his helmet. "I cut through and you follow my lead; we are heading for the door. On three."

The dead were inching ever closer as Phillip prepared to lunge. "One! Two! Three!" Phillip darted off and like a wrecking ball, he tore through the walkers.

Shane couldn't run as fast; the cut from Rick was bleeding again and seeping out his endurance. But Walsh kept up.He used his weapon like a mallet, knocking out walkers as he ran through them.

The two men made it to the three stairs leading to the porch. Luckily for them, the door was unlocked. The two men darted inside of the home. Phillip quickly slammed and locked the door, pressing his body against it to barricade himself in. Shane astutely pushed the couch towards the door, with Phillips assistance.

"What in the hell are we doing?" Shane had now joined Phillip with his back against the couch, blocking the entrance to the famished walkers.

"What does it look like? I'm catching my breath," Phillip's Manhattan accent slipped through.He usually did a good job of adopting a Midwestern accent when he spoke to strangers,but the mental game he was playing with Shane was getting intense, and _Phillip_  couldn't even keep up with his own puzzle.

Little did Phillip know, to Shane, a Yankee was a Yankee. WhetherDetroit or Boston… if it was above the Mason-Dixon, it was a Yankee. Shane was more concerned by the prospect of the walkers smashing through the windows.

"Next time bring your inhaler.We gotta move!" shouted Shane, quickly pulling Phillip to his feet.

"How do we get to that balcony, Walsh?"

Shane quickly scanned the area. "This way!"

 

**_15 Days since "Patient 0"_ **

**_Miami, FL_ **

"Since we are heading back to Boston right after this thing, we should probably discuss our assets," Austin announced as Phillip finished lacing his boots.

Austin thought he was throwing Phillip a Hail-Mary pass with this topic. But what he’d never learned about Phillip, in all their years together, was that Phillip was truly fearless.

"I think we should divide all joint accounts down the middle, especially since they're just over two-hundred-fifty- _K_. We did a very good job of keeping our money separate."

"Except for the part where you took eight-twenty-five like I was so fucking senile, I wouldn't notice it. Never pegged you for a thief."

" _Thief?"_  Phillip asked, arching his right eyebrow. "Look, I disregarded the fact that you were actually born in Jersey City, and you know I  _loathe_  New Jersey. So we're not going to fight with each other. We've done that for sixteen months. If fightingwere going to fix things, we wouldn't be on this hellish 'vacation.'"

"It’s not a bad payday… ATLAS is paying one-point-one million for Lo Lupo's head," Austin hadn't made that much for one kill since 2005. "Glass half-full."

"And we're splitting that down the middle as well," added Phillip.

 

Back at the farm,Phillip banished those thoughts out of his head. Then it dawned on him, the reason he was remembering that day. He’d learned a lesson from it:Even when your world has turned to ashes, it doesn't mean it's over. Sometimes the cosmos will allow you to reshuffle the deck, to get another chance.

Shane led Phillip up the stairs, the walkers close behind them. With one kick, Shane opened the balcony door. "Watch your step, it divides in the middle; head to the left!" he commanded.

Phillip complied, leaping over the wooden gate and landing on the rooftop. Shane did the same, and the walkers poured onto the balcony.It took only five to break the dense, wooden rails, andthe walkers clumsily slid off the roof in their impulsive attempt to eat Phillip and Shane.

"Hahaha, fuckwads!" chuckled Shane as he watched the rotting bodies slide and scrape down the roof. He aimed his weapon and began releasing a meteor shower of bullets at the walkers who were desperately reaching for his visible frame.

Equipped with his silenced M-16, Phillip joined in clearing up the dead beneath them. When Shane ran out of bullets, Phillip casually passedhim another clip, which Shane caught with his right hand. He quickly reloaded, his dark eyes brightening with his passionate rage. Shane enjoyed the fire that destroying walkers brought him, and he shared this passion with Phillip. It wasn’t long before there was nothing beneath them but bone, flesh and blood—A pulpy mess at the foot of the home.

The two men both scanned the grounds, looking for a moving limb or a gurgling moan in the walkers. But there was only a thick silence and the smoky air from the gunfire. Shane crept closer to the end of the roof. "Well, looks like we got 'em."

Panting and lying on the roof, spent from the battle, Phillip croaked, "And  _that_  was the easy part. Now comes the hard part: identification."

Shane cut his eyes at Phillip, "Can't say I'm looking forward to this."

"Come on, let's just get this over with," Phillip said as he slid off the roof and on to the corpses of the walkers below. "No time like the present."

 

Rick watched as Glenn and Maggie returned back to the camp. Rick could tell from their disheveled look what they had been doing.  _Good for them,_ thought Rick. Happiness wasn't in large supply lately, so Rick would be content when anyone found it. But he noticed that the two were rushing, as if to report something.

" _Rick_!" Glenn said in a high, nasally hiss.

Rick popped to his feet and ran towards Glenn, his left hand on his revolver. Daryl followed as well;no way Glenn would be making a big fuss if there wasn't something important. "What's wrong?You see something out there in that forest?"

"Rick, we found a place!" Glenn announced with glee. His face bubbled with happiness because he knew Rick would love it.

"Well, tell me about it."

It's a mile west of here.It looks to be an old tavern.But the best part is, it's covered in security bars and metal shutters. There's no way walkers could penetrate it."

"What about people?How the hell we supposed to get in?" Daryl said aloud. "Unless you got a bazooka I don't know about."

"That's the thing; it has a roof entrance," Maggie added. "Me and Glenn were already inside, andthere are no walkers.All you have to do is climb a ladder leading to the roof."From the looks of it, it’s been closed since before the outbreak."

"Alright, let's move the camp there temporarily. Daryl, get T-Dog and Carol. I'll get Carl and Lori.And Maggie, you get Hershel and your sister. We move out now."

"No time like the present," remarked Daryl. And with his right index finger, he pointed into the horizon, where a small herd of walkers could be seen descending upon the camp.


	5. "Atlas"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lori and Rick couldn't be on worst terms, Hershel is the only person left for Lori to vent to.While Rick tries his best to keep the camp together a herd of Walkers descend upon them. We also learn a secret about Daryl that he has tried to hide his entire life. Meanwhile at the farm, Shane and Phillip do there best to get rid of the remaining herd of walkers. Shane must find out what happen to Lori and Carl before he kind finally close the chapter of his life.
> 
> Part Four to be released following the Mid-Season Finale of The Walking Dead on 12/2/2015.
> 
> Series this work belongs to:
> 
> « Part 2 of the The Walking Dead: Negative series

_The Return of Shane, Vol. 2_

Part 4

 

Shane was spent; he collapsed on the roof.

"Don't tell me you passed out again?" Phillip shouted to Shane from the ground. Disgusted, Phillip chastised under his breath, "Un-fucking believable."

"I'm just catching my breath.At least I didn’t try to take a load off in the middle of the crisis," Shane countered.

 _Touché_ , thought Phillip. "Well, do you plan on ID-ing these people any time soon?"

The stickiness of Shane's blood glued the black, Kevlar jumpsuit to his frame, which indicated that he’dbeenbleeding out for a very long time. "I popped my stitches," he complained.

"Why didn't you say something earlier? I'll be up in a second," replied Phillip. Phillip noticed there were still three remaining walkers in the house. "There's some stragglers; give me a few minutes."

He made quick work of the dead, his bowie blades slicing through the skulls of the walkers with ease. A dark grin of satisfaction crept onto Phillip's face as the corpses fell to the ground. His hazel eyes inspected the living room. It was rather basic; the family couch was pushed to the side and bags of gear were stacked in the room. The clutter indicated that whoever was here had left in a hurry, without taking any of their tools. Phillip strongly suspected that Shane's friends were dead.

His eyes caught a large photograph of a dark-haired girl, smiling in her cap and gown. Her smile was broad, warm, and inviting. Phillip continued to search the house, ensuring more dead weren't wandering about in the closets. "Score!" he exclaimed, rushing over to the tan guitar that lay against the wall. The guitar had been found by Dale, and was intended for Glenn—but today, it was Phillip's.

Phillip joined Shane on the roof. Shane had managed to take down the form-fitting combat suit, exposing his torso. "What the hell you gonna do with that guitar,  _Darius Rucker_?"

"Darius— _who_? Anyway, never you mind. Let me see that wound," Phillip dropped the guitar and retrieved the large, black duffel bag stuffed with goods. Digging out the medical supplies, Phillip cleaned up Shane's wound.

"I thought the Fairy Godfather was the medic," Shane taunted.

"First off, that's my husband you're talking about, so watch your fucking mouth. Secondly, you have the phrase 'Lil Bird' on your tit, which opens a Pandora's box of questions. And lastly, I'm a proficient battle-trauma medic. I did those stitches in your face, by the way."

"For a guy who indulges in sarcasm during seventy-five percent of all conversations, you  _really_  are sensitive," Shane noted. "Ouch! Can you watch that needle?"

"Sorry if I'm not being gentle enough with this crude stitch job," retorted Phillip. "Now stop moving, I'm almost done."

Luckily for Shane, Phillip managed to close the wound. He sponged the blood that surrounded the deep cut in Shane's chest, then used wrap bandages around his ribcage to help bind and secure the wound. "Alright, then," Phillip said, after taking a good look at his work. "You look like Tutankhamun, but you should be good at this point."

The officer was appreciative. "Thanks man; it feels pretty tight."

 

 

"Hey, stop bitching," Phillip replied. "I probably should have brought some pain killers."

"Hell, yeah. That would have been nice."

"Luckily for me, I got the next best thing," said Phillip. From the breast pocket of his jumpsuit, he retrieved a small, silver cigarette case. With his thumb, he opened the shiny box and removed one brown, thin cigar.

"What is that, reefer?" Shane asked.

"You did not just say ‘ _reefer_ ,’" Phillip chuckled. "I feel like I'm in a Blaxploitation film.  _This_ guy talkin' about ' _reefer._ '"

"Well, I'll pass on your dope," Shane shunned. "You picked a perfect time to microwave your brain with drugs."

"Yep, but if I had Percocets, you would be diving for them like a  _HungryHungryHippo_. What's wrong? Is the officer afraid of the  _'whacky-tobacky'_? Is the officer afraid that he'll get piss-tested? Is Sherriff Walsh afraid that he’ll get kicked off the force for smoking a doobie?" Phillip's voice was nasal and taunting.

"Give me that  _fucking_  thing!" growled Shane, before snatching the cigarillo from Phillip. "You got a light or something?"

Phillip passed Shane the small book of matches hidden within the cigarette case. Shane placed the cigarillo between his lips and fumbled with the book of matches. He struck the flame and inhaled the smoke, then quickly released a puff through his nose. He took in another puff before passing the cigarillo to Phillip.

"Look at you: a hypocrite," chastised Phillip. "No coughing, no wheezing—clearly, you are not a novice."

Shane flashed his classic, devilish grin. "It's like riding a bike. I haven't smoked this stuff since college."

"You actually  _went_  to college?" teased Phillip. "I guess I shouldn't have judged your level of intelligence by your  _'aww shucks'_  accent.

"Fuck you!" Shane replied, before both men erupted into laughter. Shane looked over and noticed that Phillip was babysitting the MJ. "Aren't you supposed to be passing that by now? Don't you know the rules?"

"Look at the little dope fiend," Phillip said before passing the rolled cigarillo to Shane.

"Where did you find this, anyway?" Shane asked, taking a sharp hit.

"On one of our raids.All police stations have an evidence room," Phillip said, giving a hardy stretch. "So I picked up a little sour diesel."

"Just the two of you making runs like that?" Shane said, passing the blunt back to Phillip.

"With a third, just imagine what we could do."

Shane thought about the prospect of teaming up with Phillip and Austin. Both Phillip and Austin were far more hardcore than Rick, so he knew that together, they could be quite the force.

The two men smoked until there was nothing left but a charred butt. Shane's mind was elevated.He hadn't smoked in years, so he was significantly higher than he thought.

"Why did you grab Dale's guitar?"

Phillip shrugged. "I felt inspired."

"Can you even play?"

Phillip cut his eyes at Shane before shrugging again. He smoothly retrieved the guitar and crossed his legs, positioning himself to play. He softly tickled a few chords and tightened the strings.

Shane sat up, curious about what Phillip could actually do.  _"_ Alright, Prince, give me some  _'Purple Rain,'_ " he teased.Shane's eyes were puffy and red, and his lips were spread in a friendly smile.

Phillip began to play a few chords, eventually playing what appeared to be a lost, isolated chord. The way he played the guitar led Shane to think he really didn't know what he was doing. That was, until those lost chords turned into an  _Asus_  chord, followed by a G chord. The distortedness of the chords transitioned to a softer, more coherent melody.

Phillip closed his eyes and released a smoky but rather silky vocal:

 _"How many special people change,_  
How many lives are living strange,  
Where were you while we were getting high?  
Slowly walking down the hall,  
Faster than a cannon ball,  
Where were you while we were getting high?"

Shane loved Oasis; the British band never made a wave in the antebellum south, but Shane loved the album  _What's The Story Morning Glory_ , and especially this song. Shane's body was completely engaged.

Passionately,Phillip sang:

 _"Some day you will find me,_  
Caught beneath the landslide,  
In a champagne supernova in the sky.  
Some day you will find me,  
Caught beneath the landslide,  
In a champagne supernova,  
A champagne supernova in the sky."

Phillip abruptly stopped when he realized that he was doing something he’d promised himself he would never do again: sing.

Shane was disappointed—Phillip sounded amazing! His voice was almost like Chris Cornell’s, but with a twist of soul. Shane hadn't heard any music in over a year, so this small treat was highly appreciated.

"So yeah," confessed Phillip. "I'm not too bad."

"You were amazing," Shane exclaimed. "Man, with a voice like that you could have been… Wow, man, you can really sing."

"It doesn't matter now," Phillip dismissed him with another shrug before putting the guitar down.

"That's a  _crock_ ," Shane replied.

"Yeah, I'll be going on tour soon. I'm sure most of the attendees will be the undead."

"With pipes like that, I can see why even the dead would be in attendance," Shane said before giving Phillip a friendly shove. "But I’m not telling you something you didn't know already."

"That's what makes it all the more tragic. I had a contract, I had tour dates. Granted, everything was just beginning for me; I wasn't exactly a star, but I was  _developing_. My personal life wasn't stellar, but I was at the cusp of something great. Before all of this, I was about to live my dream."

"And then?"

"Then… Then the dead started to walk."

 

**_2103 Days before “Patient 0”_ **

_Boykins, VA_

Phillip really hated spending time with his grandmother.Aside from her daily mulattojokes, he truly hated the prison-like compound she lived in. The Honeycutt Estates were known for their large walls, designed to keep people off their property. Phillip had never appreciated the high walls that encompassed the property; they made him feel like he was trapped in a labyrinth. But it was his birthday—his eighteenth, at that— and Phillip was going to be jovial even though the day was looking glum already.

Phillip hastened his body out of his bed.His five foot seven frame was still developing, andhis curly, jet black hair was cut low then;Phillip wanted to fit in, not stick out, since he was somewhat shy and reserved. He could hear his alarm blaring in the background. "Ughhhh! I'm so not in the mood for this."

Like clockwork, Phillip popped out of his bed. 5:45 AM. Every morning, Phillip did a three-mile jog to start his day; it was one of the things he’d picked up from ATLAS. Ever since Phillip was a young boy, he’dbeen affiliated with the intense after school program, and even on his birthday, Phillip would stay on schedule.

Phillip loved running; he equated it with flying. As the teen ran through the country grounds at The Honeycutt Estates, he couldn’t help but notice just how beautiful Virginia was in early December. He admired the soft,pillowy snowflakes, dancing in the air as they gently fell from the heavens. His ears were stuffed with earphones and 311's _Love Song_ poured into his head. Phillip extended his arms like a crane, shut his eyes, and pretended to take flight as the guitar riffs flooded through him.

He ran into his mother, Barb, in the kitchen after re-entering the home. "Hello dear, how was your run?"

"It didn't suck," Phillip said, grabbing an apple from the dish in the center of the large, cherry table.

"Hey, wash your hands; what's the matter with you?" Barb said. Her voice was a smooth, Long Island brogue.

"Hey, it's my God-damn birthday," Phillip countered, challenging his mother with profanity.

"Hey, hey, watch your foul-fucking mouth," Barb said, smacking her son upside his head. "Who friggin' raised you?"

"Clearly an abusive Congresswoman from New Hampshire. I'm confident if CPS knew you used violence to get your point across, it would ruin your chances at re-election." Phillip loved taunting his mother; they had developed a very close relationship over the years. Barb had had Phillip at a young age and considered him to be her twin soul.

 

Barbara Honeycutt Akins was a beautiful woman.She stood at a statuesque five feet, eleven inches, andhad ample curves. Her healthy lifestyle kept the forty-three-year-old brunette in awesome shape. Touted as the Lynda Carter of Congress, she often disarmed people with her beauty. But it was Barb’s strong, dominating personality that made her a force to be reckoned with.

Phillip came from strong stock; his mother was a force of nature in the US Congress, and his father, Arthur Phillip Akins, was one of only three African-American, high-level, Five-Star GAFs (General of the Air Force). With those kind of connections, it was no surprise that Phillip was allowed to rub elbows with the elite. Phillip's impressive grades and athleticism had also helped him get into every school that he wanted—except Harvard or Princeton.

"I'm going to go 'head and play the race card," Phillip said as he gobbled down his eggs, scrambled with cheese. "With my grades and resume, there is no other reason why I shouldn’t have gotten into Harvard or Princeton."

"Bullshit, dear," Barb said, placing bacon strips on her son's plate. "You got into NYU, and Dartmouth College, which is in New Hampshire, after all." Barb wasn't thrilled that her son would be moving away; he was her only child. After Phillip's father had died, Barb had fallen into a depression and her son was the only anchor she had left. She wasn't ready to let go of him just yet.

"NYU doesn't count," Phillip countered.

"Well, you can always take a year off. I remember when I—"before Barb could finish her statement, a blast rang out through the house that sent her flying backwards, landing against the fridge. Phillip's eyes dilated with horror when he saw a masked gunman, dressed in all black, holding a pump-action rifle. The gunman's face was covered in a ski mask, but based off his attire, he looked too professional to be just your random stick-up kid. Furthermore, who could have breached a property with high walls and security at the gate? Phillip didn't have the free time to think about anything; he only had time to act.

He instinctively ducked under the table as the gunman, who was but yards away, began to approach. The teen's eyes darted around as he searched for an escape route.In the background, he could hear the echoed steps of the gunman as he entered the kitchen. Sweat beads collected on Phillip’s face.He held his breath as he waited for the inevitable shot. However, he received a reprieve: mounted under the table was a small handgun.  _Thank you, Grandma_! Phillip was confident this was the work of his NRA-loving Nana.

He quickly grabbed the black handgun, but he had no time to check if it was loaded. He rolled out from under the table and desperately crawled to the hall that ledinto the living room. Phillip could hear another blast as something smashed the large mirror to the right of him. Knowing he only had half a second, he pivoted and returned a chain of bullets.

Bullets slammed into the masked man, knocking him to the ground. Phillip exhaled in relief, removed his clip, and realized he only had three more bullets.  _There could be more_ , he thought, and carefully crept over to the masked man. He quickly kicked the body, his handgun pointed at the masked figure’s face. Phillip could see the crimson blood pooling under the body of the insurgent. The teen kicked again, and again, and got no response.

Releasing a small sigh, the teen then realized that his mother had been shot. He quickly turned away from the slain, masked man to tend to his mother, who lay mutely on the ground. From behind, a crushing blow landed on Phillip's head, knocking him clumsily to the ground. Before he could stand, he felt a vicious kick to the stomach thatforced the air from his body. Phillip struggled to stand as the dark, leather boot struck his ribcage with crushing force.

Phillip could barely see the figure attacking him, but it was wearing the same dark garb and mask that the previous assailant had. Phillip's eyes darted around the room, looking desperately for a weapon, or something he could use to his advantage.  _There!_  Phillip thought, noticing the discarded shotgun that lay only a few feet away. But the second Phillip discovered the weapon, the attacker delivered another kick to his ribs.

He kicked Phillip almost gleefully, as if he enjoyed watching the teen squirm.Well, Phillip would use this sadistic behavior to his advantage. For every kick that the mask figure delivered, Phillip pivoted himself closer to the gun. But Phillip thought he was far more sneaky than he truly was.

"Look at you, trying to be all clever," the masked man said in a thick, cockney accent, before kicking the gun far away. "What's wrong,  _poof_? Did you lose something?"

"No," Phillip moaned, finally locking eyes with his attacker.His eyes darted to the killer’s utility belt. "Found something." Phillip quickly retrieved the hunting knife that was holstered at the man's waist and immediately dropped it into his thigh with brutal force.

" _Bloody hell_!" the man cried out, his voice youthful in nature, no older than his very early twenties.

Phillip capitalized on the moment, smashing his forehead into the figure’s face, knocking him to the ground. With a tuck and roll, Phillip was on top; as he mounted his opponent, he punished him with monstrous punches. Blood trickled down Phillip's nose and the red drops contrasted against the dark ski mask. Left, right, left, right… Phillip’s rage burned, and the man was all but begging for a reprieve.

" _Time_!" a deep, gravelly, and rusted voice demanded.Even more darkly-dressed men entered the room wielding assault weapons, all of them pointed at Phillip. With his left hand tight around the throat of the masked figure, his right fist halted mid-strike. Phillip scanned the room, completely horrified by the number of men that were pointing guns at him.

The one who had spoken was tall and big; those were the two main things that stuck out. His frame was all of sixfoottwo, and his two-hundred-twenty-five-pound body was only nine-percent body fat. The man took great pride in this fact. His jaw was boxed and his round lips were set in a tight frown. Though he was only thirty-one, he had begun to lose his sandy-blonde hair, so he kept it cut low. But his hair problems were hidden under his crimson military beret. He wore a similar dark-colored combat suit, but it was decorated with numerous badges, indicating he was of high authority.

 _What the fuck’s goin' on here?_ Phillip thought, andhe eventually said, "What the fuck’s goin' on here?"

"Well you have a real foul mouth," the man noted in a thicker New York accent; Phillip suspected Staten Island or Brooklyn. "I am Officer Austin Angelo Marco.Welcome to ATLAS. Can you stop punching Elliot? I'm sure he needs medical attention by now."

"Medical attention?You people murdered my mother!" Phillip said with rage.Standing up to strike Austin, he ignored the soldiers readying their weapons.

"Hey, hey, _hey_! Hold your fire; what's the matter withchu?" Austin chastised the armed men. "Barb, you can stop playing dead now."

"Well, I was caught in the moment," Barb said, rising from the ground. Phillip was in total shock when he saw his mother covered in what appeared to be blood. "Honey, it's all fake, and let's be honest—do I ever wear sweats?"

"What?" Phillip's voiced trailed; he was truly astonished by it all.

"You make a damn good crisis actress, Barb," Austin complimented.

"Call me when you have your next false flag attack," Barb teased. "Now Phillip, this is the part where I step away. You're a man now, and you've been selected to do great things. Everything I have done for you has led to this moment. This is pretty confusing, I know, but I promise you, you are destined for this. I'm gonna go get cleaned up. I'll see you in a little bit."

Barb attempted to walk away but Phillip desperately grabbed her hand, "Mom, no."

"I'm done here. It's all you from this point on… it's all you." Barb walked out of the kitchen and out of Phillip's view. Phillip attempted to follow, but was cut off by a gunman.

"Get out of my way," Phillip demanded. The man’s face tightened and Phillip growled, "This is not a multiple-choice question.Get out of my house."

"You talk a lot of shit for a boy who was just crying for his mommy," Austin remarked.

Phillip turned around and began to charge into Austin, but the cool Italian wasn't at all threatened by the puny teen. Austin merely grinned at the prospect. "I get it, you're tough. You managed to take out two specialists who are two classes before you. You really should be proud of yourself. I think that may be a first."

"I don't need props from you, Nuzio. All of you, get out!"

"Get out?" scoffed Austin; this kid was truly tickling him. "Look, we leave in thirty minutes. I suggest you grab your Hello Kitty sleeping bag, because mommy won't be able to tuck you in for a long time."

Phillip chuckled, and the blood finally ceased its trickle from his left nostril. "Who are you, again?"

"Officer Austin Angelo Marco, Number Eighty-Seven." Austin voice was cool.He searched Phillip’s hazel eyes as the teen walked ever closer.

"Number Eighty-Seven?What is that, some  _Austin Powers_ bullshit?"

"ATLAS specialists are ranked by their skills, value, and  _'resumes'_. There are only one thousand active ATLAS operatives at one time. I am ranked in the top 100—in other words, I’m one of the best."

"Yeah, you’re cruising at eighty-seven, that’s not very impressive.Aren't you getting close to retirement age?" Phillip taunted.

Austin was very sensitive about his age, and his frown deepened after Phillip's comment. "I encourage you to get packed; you probably only have twenty-five minutes now." A satisfied grin appeared on Austin's face; he was going to enjoy breaking Phillip. Egos like Phillip's could use a little shaving.

But Phillip had other things in mind. "Ok, let me get dressed." Phillip walked past Austin, his movements smooth as he quickly retrieved Austin's service weapon that was secured at his waist. "Two in a row—you assholes really don't pay attention!" Phillip pointed the gun directly at Austin's forehead, and the supporting gunmen raised their guns once again.

"I  _said_  hold your fire," demanded Austin. "Besides, he doesn't have the bal—"

Phillip fired. A red splatter hit against Austin's forehead and pain rocked his face as the red paintball exploded on impact. "I  _knew_  it!" Phillip said.

Austin begin to chuckle, "Yeah, you're real smart." The Italian turned his head then quickly delivered a folding gut punch to Phillip, knocking him to his knees. Austin quickly wiped his forehead, smearing the orange-red paint,then ordered one of the gunmen, "Make sure you get him in the van." Austin looked at the paint that had collected on his fingertips, and noticed crimson droplets of his own blood fall from the small cut that the paintball had delivered. Enraged,he added, "And make it hurt, too."


	6. “Almost Too Far Gone”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick, Lori, Carl, Hershel, Maggie, Glenn, Daryl, T-Dog, and Carol are being hunted by the dead. Luckily, Glenn and Maggie may have a safe haven for Lori to have her baby. Rick's hostility grows even deeper for his wife when he overhears a conversation she has with Hershel. Meanwhile, Shane is losing his mind on the farm. The phantom of Rick Grimes is haunting him and Shane isn't sure if he snaps again that he can come back.

_The Return of Shane, Vol. 2_

Part 5

 

Rick and his group quickly collected their belongings before following Maggie and Glenn into the darkness. The oncoming herd had been drawn by the group's campfire,but mindlessly continued to follow them further into the forest. Rick wasn't sure how secure this abandoned liquor store would be, but he was sure it was infinitely safer than standing out alone in the middle of the night.

Lori's stomach was still flat and her pregnancy was not yet slowing her down. She gripped Carl's hand tightly as she ran with him through the foliage of the forest. "Carl, we gotta keep up, baby," Lori encouraged her son, who was beginning to lose steam.

"But Mom—I can't," Carl confessed.

Lori, desperate to save her son, lifted him into her arms and continued to run. Rick noticed Lori struggling to hold the ninety-five-pound pre-teen, so grabbed Carl from her arms and continued to run. Daryl turned to see Carol struggling to keep up the speed.

"Come on, now," Daryl said, stopping to help Carol to her feet. "We gotta keep moving!"

The survivors could run, but the wall of walkers still crept closer and closer as the group tried their best to retreat.

Maggie and Glenn were able to locate the brick building; its chipped, yellow paint was a grim reminder of what it was. "Here!" Glenn called out to the group.

"Let's go; move, move, move!" demanded Rick.

 

Phillip and Shane left the roof after sobering up.Shane took much longer than Phillip to gather himself; besides his injury, he wasn’t a consistent smoker, like Phillip was. Phillip watched Shane in his peripheral, just in case he tripped over his sloppy feet.

As they walked through the house, Shane was unable to recognize any of the walkers. This didn't relieve the officer; it only proved that this had all been a waste of time. "There something out there I need to pick up."

"Ok, I'll raid this place for food. No way a  _farm_  doesn't have anything to eat." Phillip walked off, deeper into the house.

Shane remembered that Hershel had banned him from his home;that meant all of Shane's property would still be outside the house. He walked over to his tent, snuggled between Andrea’s and Daryl's duffel bags. He rooted through his bag in search of ammo, but came across something else—his old police hat and badge. The badge was a golden, septagram star, coated with a thin sheet of grime. He traced his fingers across the grooves and the engraved number, "2030."

" _Screw my wife?!"_ Shane could hear Rick's voice booming in his ears, and he quickly turned around,pointing his gun aggressively. He dropped his badge in the shuffle and desperately searched for the source of the voice. No one was there, and he tightened his eyes as he scanned the area. No one was watching, not even Phillip.

" _You did this to us; not me!"_ Shane could hear the voice again, so he fired his handgun. " _That is_ _my_ _wife, that is_ _my_ _son, that is_ _my_ _child_!" Shane quickly turned to his left and fired again. He felt surrounded; no matter where he looked, he could hear Rick. But he was invisible. Rick was nowhere to be seen, but Shane could sense his spirit.

"Rick Grimes, you show your face, you son-of-a-bitch!" Shane said with hostility. "Come on out, boy!" He desperately scanned the fields in search of Rick. "Come out!" Shane began to fire wildly into the night.

The blast of the handgun wasn't just heard by the dead, but also by Phillip, who had been busy stuffing his bag with the fresh fruit that Hershel had kept in his refrigerator. Initially, Phillip had assumed that Shane was facing a few walkers, but he soon noticed that the frequency of the firing, coupled with Shane's yelling, indicated something else was afoot.

Shane's heart began to race, pumping with thick thuds, and the officer felt tremendously light-headed. He felt trapped in a whirlpool, the constant spinning making him nauseous. Shane struggled to catch his breath.Falling to his knees,he began to wheeze with desperation. Never in his life had he felt this way; his body was being assaulted by a train of somatic attacks, and he had no idea what was happening to him.

Shane was having a panic attack. He had picked a perfect time to have his first one; due to the commotion it was causing, a few walkers had wandered back to the farm. Shane noticed the three walkers creeping towards him, but the terror he was feeling from the panic attack prevented him from standing, let alone fighting.

Terrified, Shane curled himself in a fetal position and screamed, "No!" as the dead descended upon him. From the darkness, silenced bullets penetrated the brains of each of the walkers. Phillip's assault rifle was still smoking after putting down the dead. He observed Shane, still in the fetal position, moaning, "Get away, get away from me."

The soldier knew exactly what was happening, and he didn't have to use his advanced behavioral health training to know Shane was having a panic attack. Phillip was very familiar with panic attacks, as he had gotten them often when he’d first begun with ATLAS. The faces of the people he’d had to kill had haunted him, forcing him out of his sleep. Oftentimes, the soldier had even sleepwalked, and scratched himself in his sleep. "Shane, what's going on with you? Can you hear me?"

Shane ignored Phillip's calls; he was so preoccupied with his panic attack that the outside world seemed blurred and vague. "Walsh, look at me!" Phillip was desperate to break this trance.

Shane merely wept, begging his unseen assailant to leave him alone. Phillip kneeled, grabbing Shane's head, forcing him to look into his eyes. "Shane, stay with me. I've been through a hundred of these before."

"Get the fuck off me!" Shane screamed, shoving Phillip away. "Just leave me alone!" Shane rolled over, his face covered by the earth and grass. Mucus collected near his nose and lips as he cried out in horror. "Just leave me.Just leave me."

"Sorry, that's not on the menu today." Phillip refused to abandon Shane; he'd invested too much at this point to just leave. He began to rub Shane's back. "It's ok,  ** _you_**  are ok. Shane, you're outside, with me—Phillip. No one can hurt you, ok?Now, I'm going to move my hand and back away. I'm not going to go too far. When you are ready, let me know."

Shane continued to weep; he could hear Phillip, but his voice was echoing and unfocused. Shane was knee-deep in the middle of a panic attack and could not be reoriented to reality. Phillip knew this was common, especially for people who weren't familiar with panic attacks. The only thing he could do at this point was just allow Shane to go through it.

 

The liquor store was dirty, but Lori didn't care.She cleaned a small area for her family and set up their sleeping area. Rick was with Daryl, T-Dog, and Glenn; the men were ensuring that the building was secured. Maggie and Hershel sat with Lori and Carl inside the dank, dark building. The lit candles brought a creepier feel to the already-melancholy structure.

"Are we safe?" Beth asked, her body language exposing her intense anxiety. Her blonde hairwas woven in a shoulder tress, and her forehead was wrinkled with concern. "They can't get in, can they?"

"No, Beth," Maggie reassured her sister. "Before me and Glenn got back, we looked around real good. Besides, the men are making sure everything is secured."

"It would probably be a good idea for us to keep our voices and noise down to a minimum," suggested Hershel. "We wouldn't want to draw attention to ourselves."

Rick and the other men returned after checking everything out. Rick saw his wife, but refused to give her any eye contact. "It's clear. We keep watch in 3 hour cycles; first me, then Glenn, Daryl, and T-Dog gets the last shift. We keep noise down to a bare minimum. At first light, me, Daryl, and T-Dog are heading out to find some food. Glenn is going to stay here with you guys, to keep y'all safe."

"Thank you, Rick," Lori said, finally. "Making sure we are all taken care of."

Rick had nothing to say to Lori.His blue eyes merely focused on Daryl, completely ignoring Lori and her comment. "Daryl, I'm heading to the roof; you coming with?"

Noticing how Rick had completely ignored his wife,Daryl quickly looked at Lori then back to Rick. "Sure, ain't doing anything else."

Lori's heart sank.She had no way to connect with her husband; he had completely shut off his emotions for her. She’d had no idea that Rick could be so outwardly cold towards her, especially while she was pregnant. She was clueless as to what to do. Rick was completely disconnected from her. She didn't realize that every time Rick looked at her, all he saw was Shane.

Lori did have Hershel, though; the farmer gravitated towards young women, especially since he was a father of two girls. Lori and Hershel had begun having their talks during the time Carl was recovering from having been shot by Otis. "How are you feeling?" Hershel asked Lori, his smile warm and paternal.

"Shitty," Lori confessed. "Me and Rick…" Lori couldn't even finish before tearing up.

"Marriages are hard, Lori," Hershel reminded her. "And yours has seen quite a few punches in recent months."

"He won't even talk to me, Hershel," she said, through tears. "He won't argue; he won't look at me.He hates me."

"He doesn't," Hershel reassured. "He's hurting."

"I should have never started this," Lori said to herself, severing her gaze from Hershel’s. She was too embarrassed to look at Hershel's steel-blue eyes.

Hershel would not attack Lori;that wasn't his style. He was there to support her through this entire mess.He looked at her as if she were one of his own. "Now, we've discussed this before; what went on between you and Shane was a mistake. You were in a place of vulnerability, and he capitalized on it."

"No Hershel, it wasn't like that," Lori denied. "It started way before  _everything_ , before Rick had _'died'_ , before he was shot and put in the hospital. Me and Shane, we weren't really an accident."

Hershel tried his best to mask his shock, but a glimmer of disappointment was evident in his eyes. “Lori—”

“—No Hershel, I have to say this, because if I don’t say this now I don’t know if Iwill again. I love my husband and my son, but I was missing something. I’m still missing something. It was never a question of Shane or Rick. I guess I was just selfish. I wanted Rick as my husband and Iwanted Shane as my admirer. We never even kissed; it just felt good knowing that someone wanted to talk to me. How petty is that?”

 

Phillip brought Shane a bottle of water.The former officer was now sitting, legs crossed, his face covered by his palms. "Hey, are you ok, buddy?" Phillip asked.

"What the hell is happening to me, Phillip?" Shane asked.The officer was beyond confused, and terrified by his own mental state.

"It looked like you were having a panic attack.It's hard to say, though," said Phillip, plopping himself down beside Shane. "Did it feel like you were having a heart attack?"

"It felt like I was having a heart attack and drowning, all at the same time."

The soldier nodded affirmatively, "Than yes,  ** _that_**  was a panic attack.Either that or you were having a  _real_  heart attack." Phillip placed his hand on Shane's shoulder and gave it a quick rub. "I've been through maybe one million of those things. The only thing you can do is…let it pass."

"There were walkers, man. What was I doing, crying like a  _fag_ —a girl?" Shane corrected himself, conscious of how politically incorrect his first term was, especially in Phillip's company.

"Don't be silly, Shane. Faggots don't cry about things; we get  _even_ ," Phillip said before removing his hand from Shane's shoulder. "It’s an approach you should adopt."

"How do I get even?" Shane asked, expecting one of Phillip’s annoying, cryptic replies.

"Find the source of your Trauma.For me, it was all the killing. ATLAS turns you into a highly proficient killing machine, but it doesn't prepare you for all the psychological baggage associated with being a gun-for-hire. Before everything fell apart, I had issues with sleeping. I could only get 4 hours of rest on a good night."

"Why?"

"The voices kept me up. Most of the time I couldn't even make out what they were saying, but I knew they were after me. Hissing and screaming at me, calling me a murderer…"

Shane turned to Phillip, who looked out into the gloom of the night as he relived his panic attacks. Shane could relate to Phillip's experience; the voices were the main thing he could remember. "So what did you do?"

"I got even," Phillip said. "I balanced my karma by trying to do good deeds. I would help people behind Austin's back.He would go ape-shit if he knew how many times I've risked my life trying to help others."

"Why don't he want you to help people?" asked Walsh. "It's dangerous, yeah. But what the hell isn't dangerous nowadays?"

Phillip shrugged his shoulders. "He wants to keep me alive. He loves me and he feels the best way for us to get to our destination is to stay away from the locals—living and  _un_ -living. We all see what's going on.You would have to bury your head in the ground not to see that the world we knew is gone. For me and Austin, if we lost each other, that would be it. That would be the last bits of our lives, gone. We would be lost. I can handle cannibal zombies, but I couldn't survive losing Austin or Cameron."

"Why did you save me?" Shane wanted to know why Phillip felt so strongly about him. "Why do you think I will fit into any of this?"

"I told you: I wanted to get even. Get even with the Man Upstairs, or Mother Nature, whoever is keeping watch of this entire mess. I figure if I slide on that 'red cape' enough,maybe I’ll finally be able to clear my karmic credit report. I may even be able to sleep at night."

"How many hours are you catching these days?" asked Shane.

"I'm going to have to get back to you on that one," confessed Phillip. Sleep had been hit or miss, but having Austin with him helped. "I would probably sleep a little better knowing that there is a third, bad-ass zombie fighter with me."

Shane weighed his options: He could try his best to make it on his own,but how would he sleep without someone else to play watch? Who would help him clear homes and businesses? Who would help him search for supplies? By now, Shane had built some level of trust in Phillip;the man appeared genuine and honest. Phillip was straight up.Like most people from New York City, he never held back his opinion. Shane appreciated the transparency and could see himself working with Phillip. Austin, however, was an entirely different animal. Shane couldn't read the titan Italian, and suspected that Austin hated him and only helped patch him up onPhillip’s request.

"Look, I don't plan on staying at this graveyard much longer.If you're coming, let's go." The farm had a spooky vibe and Phillip wanted to leave as soon as possible.

Shane finally stood and walked back over to his belongings. "There's something I need to do first." He collected his police-hat, badge, and managed to find his number twenty-two, golden necklace. He was also lucky enough to find a bottle of whiskey, abandoned by Daryl. Shane emptied the bottle over his black duffel bag, saving the last swig for himself but passing the remainder to Phillip before finishing it.

"Where's that book of matches?" asked Shane.He thought about his life before the fall, but then forced those thoughtsfrom his head. As far as he knew, everyone was dead. Shane would not mourn them, as he was sure they would not mourn him.

With a toss, Phillip handed Shane the box of matches. He quickly struck the match and tossed it on the whiskey-soaked knapsack. A small inferno grew with a weak intensity.Without taking a second to think, Shane tossed his police-hat into the fire. The hat burned slowly and with a blue flame, due to the chemicals in the hat's fabric. Shane was ready to assassinate his former self, ready to embrace the new Shane.

He looked at his golden badge and matching, golden,number-twenty-two necklace that sat in the palm of his right hand. He began to toss them into the flames as well, but Phillip stopped him. "Why not? I'm not a cop anymore, and I'm sure as hell not going to the NFL. I don't even know who I am anymore, but I know I'm not  _this._ "

"Hey I'm all for divorcing the old you if you feel like it could hold you back from being who you truly are. We can get rid of everything in our past, but sometimes we need tokens to help us remember."

"Remember what? What is there left to remember? The world has ended."

"It hasn't ended.We're still here,  _Sherriff_  Walsh."

 

Hershel and Lori went to a more intimate section of the liquor store, while Maggie, Glenn and Beth spent time with Carl. Carol, however, kept herself busy with T-dog, familiarizing herself with guns. Carol was trying to fill the void left by Sophia's death, learning how to defend herself. Hershel passed Lori a can of Vienna Sausages, wanting to make sure she ate as much as possible.

"Am I disgusting because I actually have always loved these things?" Lori said, pouring out the thick liquid that covered the weenies.

"I did, too," confessed Hershel. "The kids thought they were awful, though. It's hard to please children when it comes to food."

"Unless they are still in the womb," remarked Lori. "Then you can pretty much feed them whatever you want."

"So tell me, Lori, when did this really begin with Shane?"

"It never was a thing between me and Shane," said Lori. "Shane was always around, fixing things, playing with Carl. He was the best Uncle of all-time, initially."

"But at some point, things had to have changed," Hershel pressed on.

"Yeah, they changed," confessed Lori. "Things changed between me and Rick. It started at Carl's twelfth birthday party—let's just say things went south quickly. The neighborhood kids got a front-and-center view of me and Rick's, imploding. But then there was Shane. He was there to hear me vent after Rick left to go hide at the bar. After I talked to Shane for about an hour, he drives up to the  _Dew Drop Tavern_  and finds a very  _sober_  Rick just hiding. Hiding from me."

"He sounds like a good friend, Shane," Hershel said, though his memory of Shane was far sourer. "Did you call him a lot when you and Rick would quarrel?"

Lori was quiet for a second, remembering all the times she had called Shane in tears, complaining about how disconnected she felt to Rick. She remembered telling Shane how she didn't want to be alone anymore. Like a shotgun shell to the gut, it dawned on Lori that she was the true cause of Shane's death. She had been leading him on for years.

Through tears, Lori nodded affirmatively. "Shane didn't have any children and couldn't keep a girlfriend for more than six months. I always likened myself to the only positive female influence in his life.His parents were both dead and he had very little living family;he was alone, too."

Hershel was wise beyond his sixty-two years of life, and he understood what it was like to have his heart torn between two people. "Lori, when Jo died I felt like I was never going to love again. I thought the only thing left for me was to be was a father to Maggie. But I was wrong.A man's heart can heal and find love again. Men are sensitive, more so than women—contrary to popular belief. It could take days, sometimes months—and for the truly unlucky, years—to heal. One day, Rick is going to heal too."

The tiny-framed brunette began to shiver. Hershel instinctively removed his jacket and draped it around Lori. "I never touched him before this, Hershel. I swear to  _God_  I didn't." Lori shook her head, purging any remaining feelings she had for Shane. If she and Rick would ever be able to move forward, she would need to completely demonize Shane in her mind. If she could bring herself to hate him, then maybe she would be able to move forward with her husband.

But what Lori didn't know was that Rick had crept off the roof of the abandoned liquor store and watched his wife from afar. He listened to how she and Shane had carried on a secret relationship for years, and this knowledge infuriated Rick even more; even before Lori had slept with Shane, she had already been cheating on Rick. Hershel was hoping for a reconciliation,but Rick didn't see that ever happening.

 

Phillip could hear a slight wheeze in Shane's breathing.Initially, he ignored it, but soon it became way too loud to overlook. The two men had left the farm and were heading back to the PYTHON. "Do you need to take a break?" asked Phillip.

"Naw, man," dismissed Shane, "Let's keep moving."

"Yeah, but if you keel over, I'm going to have to drag your sorry carcass through this forest. So we can take a quick five-minute." Phillip pulled out a small, silver tablet, nine by five inches in size. The glass screen illuminated a soft, green glow.

"What is that thing?" Shane asked inquisitively.

"It's a tablet."

"No shit," retorted Shane. "What does it do? I'm guessing you aren't uploading videos to YouTube."

"You would be right, seeing as the internet is down. However, GPS is still up and running,which leads me to believe that there are still people working to fix this. Either that or it takes a little more time before the satellites become useless. Come here; let me show you."

Shane walked over to Phillip, who was entranced by the light of the tablet. When the officer got a closer look,he noticed he was looking at a large map of Georgia. "We are here, about five miles out of Senoia.  _We_ are these two lights: the green and the blue." Phillip pointed out two dots: one green and one blue. The dots were waypoints that represented Shane and Phillip, and they were basically on top of each other. "There is a chip in each one of the uniforms, I'm blue and you’re green."

"Who's this dot—the black one?" With his index finger, the officer touched the screen.

"It's the PYTHON," answered Phillip. Using his right index finger and thumb, he spread the map on the touch screen tablet, zooming in on the black dot. Within the circumference of the black dot werea yellow dot and a red dot. "The red dot is Austin and the yellow is Buster."

Shane was impressed by their tech.  _No wonder they survived this long_ , he thought. Between the indestructible vehicle, the  _007_ -style gadgets, and their own amazing fighting skills, it was no surprise that the Marcos were still alive and kicking. "We're about five miles out;if we keep heading north we should get there with very little trouble."

Phillip had spoken too soon.Within that very second, what appeared to be a small herd of walkers emerged through the darkness of the night, lit only by the glow of the moon.  _"Shit!"_  Shane hissed aloud.

"Great," Phillip said, somewhat defeated. "Can this night get any better?"

God sometimes has a cruel sense of humor; at least that's what Phillip was taught as a child. As soon asPhillip had made his childish complaint, there was a crack of lightning, followed by sheets of rainfall. "Son of a bitch!" Phillip cursed under his breath as he quickly put away the tablet, saving it from water damage.

"We gotta go,  _now!_ " Shane quickly retrieved his assault rifle and pointed it at the walkers that were descending upon the two men. "Shoot and run, just like we did before."

Phillip cracked his M-16. "Let's do it."

 

The storm had picked up and forced the walkers to where Rick's group was held up. They had piled up outside of the store, banging aggressively on the shutters. As a waterfall of Georgia rain fell on Rick, he fired his Remington 700 with great accuracy. Even in the rain, Rick Grimes could not be stopped.

Inside the store, it was chaotic. Beth screamed in horror as the dead growled and threw their bodies onto the building. The dead could sense the living inside, and their hunger needed to be satisfied. While Beth and Carl both cried out, Daryl and Glenn pushed debris and abandoned furniture to the entrances of the store. The shutters would supposedly prevent the walkers from entering, but they wanted to be sure.

"Beth, it's ok.No one is getting in, honey," Maggie tried her best to relax the blonde teen, but Beth was too horrified to be calmed. Maggie pulled the girl in for a loving embrace. "It's ok, Beth. We're ok!"

Daryl watched Beth's meltdown.Wanting to help, he decided to join Rick on the roof. "I'm going up there with Rick. Best way keep them out is to drop them before they get in here. T-Dog, you commin' wif?"

"Hell yeah." T-Dog grabbed his shotgun and followed Daryl to the roof.

Rick appreciated the support from Daryl and T-Dog, and the men quickly exterminated the eleven walkers below. "Took you two long enough," teased Rick.

"Yeah, yeah," T-Dog complained. "Tell that to them down there." T-Dog took a small step backwards and the weight of the man, compounded with the rain, caused the weathered roof to begin to collapse.

"T!" Daryl called out, grabbing T-Dog's hand. Luckily for T-Dog, his ankle was barely caught in the faulting roof.

"Why does this shit always happen to me?" complained T-Dog.

"Cause you're a clumsy some-bitch," Daryl teased. "Yo, Rick, help me out here."

Rick assisted T-Dog and Daryl from the sinking roof. What Rick had learned was that they couldn't stay here; the walkers and the caving roof ensured that someone would die if they stayed too long. This place wasn't safe, not past tonight. They would stay for only one night, and at first light Rick would lead the group to another location.

 

"Austin! Austin, do you read me?" Phillip cried out over the radio as he and Shane ran through the muddy forest. The rain had yet to cease and the army of the dead seemed to have no end in sight.

After firing a small stream, Shane announced, "I'm running low on ammo."

"Me, too," Phillip confessed. "Austin, if you can read me, we are about eight miles south of the PYTHON.We are surrounded by these things, and I'm out of ammo!"

"I hear you," a smoky voice finally answered through Phillip's earpiece. "And I see you— _both_  of you. Make a sharp right and head up that embankment.”

Phillip quickly looked to his right and noticed a flooding ridge just beyond a thin wall of walkers. Phillip knew he could tear through them with ease. "This way!" he cried out. He strapped his assault rifle around his shoulder and retrievedthe two bowie knives that rested at his waist. Using the twelve-inch, crescent-shaped blades, Phillip quickly began slicing through the brains of the dead.

Shane followed, slamming the butt of his AK against the walkers’ heads as he trudged up the muddy embankment. The walkers struggled to pursue the officer and soldier; clumsy by nature, they could barely traverse through the water and clay earth. But the two men could. Shane made it up first, then assisted Phillip.

"Come on, we don't got time to take breathers," Shane said, hastening Phillip to his feet.

Phillip had twisted his ankle and was in enormous pain, but he did his best to conceal it. "Austin, we're over the bank. Where to now?"

Through the darkness, two light beams appeared.  _"Hallelujah!_ " called out Phillip.

The PYTHON was visible to Shane and Phillip, who were both hooting with excitement. As they approached the vehicle, Austin exited, and the rain finally began to let up. Austin was surprised at the motley appearance of Phillip and Shane. "You look like shit," he declared.

"Thanks," replied Phillip.

Austin couldn't help but grin to himself before focusing his attention on Shane. "So, are you with us or not?"

Shane quickly and bashfully rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"Fair enough; get in then. It's colder than an ex-wife's heart out here." Austin led the men back inside the warm Humvee. Buster's large ears perked with excitement at the return of his other master.

Phillip quickly began to disrobe."I smell like brain, mixed with rain, mixed with mud, mixed with sweat." Finally free of the soaked jumpsuit, Phillip continued his rant. "Please tell me you have something warm to eat."

"Not really," replied Austin. "But there are quite a few cans of chicken noodle."

"Angelo, you truly are my  _angel_ ," replied Phillip.

“Yeah, yeah,” Austin dismissed Phillip’s cutesy speech.“What in the hell were you thinking?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?” replied Phillip.

The night eventually became day as Austin drove down the road alone. Though Phillip called shotgun, he slept quietly, swathed in a warm blanket. Shane too was asleep; after he made friends with Buster, the two slept in close proximity to each other. Austin looked through the rearview mirror at Shane and Buster, grinning at the sight. Buster was good at sensing people, and if the dog felt comfortable enough to snuggle with Walsh, Austin figured he would give him a chance as well. Shane had proven to be valiant, solid, and clever. If there was ever a person deserving a second chance, Shane Walsh was that man.

"Well, you don't see  _that_  every day," said Austin. As he peered through his windshield, he could see what appeared to be two women, walking with chained walkers. Austin noticed that the dread-headed woman was carrying a samurai sword on her back, and the blonde was holding a metal crowbar.

As Austin passed by the women, he said, "Yo, Phillip, you see that shit?"

Phillip's eyes remained closed as he slept peacefully. Austin, knowing how hard it was for his husband to get meaningful rest, decided to not disturb him.

 

" _Hey, wait_!" Andrea called out, waving her hands desperately.

"They aren't stopping," Michonne said, her tone robotic and frigid.

"Well we can at least try; that vehicle looked like military," remarked Andrea.

"And who knows who's driving that thing?" Michonne replied. "Usually, military vehicles drive in a convoy—not just one lone vehicle."

"Well,  _sorry_  for having hope in anything," Andrea said. Though Andrea was thankful for Michonne,the woman could be quite the negative Nancy.

"Just because the ride looks good, it doesn't mean the driver won't take you over a cliff," Michonne replied.

Andrea dismissed Michonne's negativity, but this warning was Andrea's first and only clue as to what fate had in store for her.


	7. Special Message From The Author

I hope you all enjoyed reading! I can't wait to share #Lori with you and even more to excited to start THE WALKING DEAD: SEASON -6. Also i want you all to follow me on twitter, instagram, and facebook to check out the concept art for Phillip, Austin, Shane, Rick, and many more. Again, this story is very important to me. So much so that I have decided to work with an editor and develop this trilogy to a free graphic novel. More details to come.


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